


The Repercussions of War

by X_Gon_Give_It



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Additional title: Grumpy and the Man-Squirrel, Based on SeasonsofLaurens fic "Training Dragons and other Sure Fire Way's to Die", Dragon AU, Dragon-rider AU, Dragonrider!Wade, Knight!Wade, M/M, Protective!Peter, Shapeshifting!PEter, Spideypool - Freeform, Tags to be added as story goes on..., dragon!peter, orignally called "Dragon Fire", practicing World Building, swearing because of Deadpool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13876890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/X_Gon_Give_It/pseuds/X_Gon_Give_It
Summary: Wade Wilson, a Dragon-Knight-in training, suffers a misfortune on his trip through Batl'Ar, a small island off the coast of the Stark Province, and is separated from his group. Injured and alone, he finds a peculiar young man with a peculiar secret. Or, more correctly, HE finds Wade.Together, the two find themselves in a stirring rebellion against an enemy thought only to exist in old battlefield rumors. A dark adversary that seeks the blood of humans and dragons alike, and will stop at nothing until it's need for vengeance is satisfied.Why? Because the Dragon War was terrible. The Dragon War was a mistake. And now, it's time for them all to take responsibility for what they've done and feel the repercussions of their war.Dragon/Dragon rider AU!Role reversal/alternate universe of SeasonsofLaruens fic, "Training Dragons and other Sure Fire Way's to Die"





	1. This is NOT Funny

**Author's Note:**

> This is a role-reversal/alternate universe to the fanfic created by SeaonsofLauren called "Training Dragons and Other Sure Fire Ways to Die" 
> 
> In this Peter is the draeconus, and Wade is the knight/dragon rider. 
> 
> (I got permission from the original author to use his/her work for this fic) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, Deadpool, or the characters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Size didn't matter when bonding to a dragon, nor shape, nor ferocity and Wade didn't try and judge by those qualities. But, as Wade lay inside his tent, his mind was filled with the images of his future dragon. It would be dark, imposing, and dangerous in every conceivable way. Something that could keep up with his lust for a good ol' fight.
> 
> Wade dreamed of flying on a dragon black as night.

**Now you're all probably thinking "Huh, this story used to have 8 chapters. Where'd they go?" Well, to answer you're question, they've been deleted! But don't fret, they'll be reposted. This story underwent intense editing and now we're back!!**

**Thank you to those who are patient with me! This story is back and (hopefully) better than ever!! Whoo! Let's DO this!**

**A few notes before we dive in:**

**1) Keep in mind the rating - "Mature" that's mostly for vulgar language *glares at Wade* and adult themes.**

**2) This is kind of a** _**really** _ **long chapter. I love long chapters, but I don't it can be daunting to some people, so I'm just throwing it out there. This is a long chapter (roughly 8,000 - 9,000 words), so those who stay till the end, see ya down there! ;)**

**That's all! Now, let's get into some slow burn, medieval fantasy SPIDEYPOOL! Whoop! Whoop!**

* * *

It was just past morning and Wade was already rekindling the idea of murder.

Don't get him wrong, murder was usually at the top of his mind, and right now he was very,  _very_  close to fulfilling his instinctive nature toward anything that annoyed him. But every time his fingers edged toward his knives, the righteous gleam of the Captain's presence was like a rope gently tugging his hands away. It worked, sadly. The son of a bitch wasn't dead yet. But come midday, Wade wasn't going to promise anything.

His prodigious respect for Captain Rogers was enough to keep his swords in their scabbards, but on the other hand, it did little to keep Francis' braying voice from shouting in his ear like the world's most conceited donkey.

"Top of the morning to you, Wilson," the donkey called, pulling his palfrey to a looming stop beside Wade, purposely casting a long shadow over him as if the added inches made up for his lacking height. "Forgive me, but I thought the tailor shop was back in the kingdom. I'm sure they've finished your evening-gown by now."

Somewhere off to the side, Captain Rogers was giving instructions to the members of the troop still saddling their palfreys, but he was close enough that it would catch his attention if Francis suddenly inherited a sword through his gut. His insults weren't even good (if they could be called insults at all, evening gowns were quite fun to wear), but the mere fact that Francis saw it fit to talk to him this early in the morning was offensive in itself.

Rolling his eyes widely, Wade turned from the saddle he was fiddling with in an elongated twirl and shot a painfully bright smile at his "comrade". It probably didn't get past the heavy red cowl cast over his head, but he could only hope Francis had the mental capacity to take a hint.

"For your information,  _Francis_ , " he grinned nastily at the way it made Francis's jaw clench, "my gown isn't scheduled to be ready till I get back. But don't you worry," he winked, "I'll still be the prettiest girl at the ball."

"That's not my name," Francis growled, inching his palfrey forward with a hand ghosting over his swords hilt. Wade grinned wider. The threat was as obvious as the popping vein in Francis' forehead, but it was hardly impressive. While Francis was, admittedly, good at swordplay, Wade wasn't worried about a fight. It wouldn't be his first tussle with the guy and it wasn't likely to be the last either. But with the troop prepping to leave the islands small port-side settlement, and start their hike up the steep mountain of Batl'Ar, there just wasn't time to knock ol'Francis down a foot or two.

"Oh, beg your pardon, I must've stuttered?" Wade cooed, splaying a hand delicately over his chest. "Let me try again. Was it Francy? Franchesko? My little Franny?"

The vein popped bigger and redder, and not in an erotic way. With a barking laugh, Wade went back to saddling his palfrey, adding a quick "See you on the road, Francie," over his shoulder as Francis jerked his horse away. Cause that's all the guy was. Big bark, little bite.

Now don't get him wrong, Wade still wanted to the run the pointy-end of his sword through Francis's gizzard, but it never failed to brighten his day when it was spent mocking his fellow ingrate . There was something about hearing Francis's teeth grind that made the world sing. By this time tomorrow, his teeth would be as worn and weathered as an old crones. Wade liked to fantasize about kicking his team in himself, but he'd settle for a hearty tooth-ache just the same.

Still tee-heeing under his breath, he finished buckling the saddle under the belly of his horse and stood, rubbing the brown and white speckled coat warmly. She turned her head toward him and roughly nudged his shoulder with her long nose, likely looking for the molasses cubes he kept as a treat. She only seemed to like the sickly sweet ones that made the world go all coo-coo and fuzzy when you ate them.

Not that Wade ate horse cubes on a regular basis. Just on dark, lonely nights when he was drunk off his ass, hallucinating, and wondering  _what the fuck made this little square so special._ But you know, given that they were for horses, they weren't  _bad_.

"Easy there, Blind Al," Wade pushed her nose away from the pouches on his belt. She had a habit of chewing on them, and he refused to lose his genitals to her horrendous sweet tooth. Not many people knew of his peculiar healing abilities, only a select few, and while it could be helpful at times - like regrowing your junk - it still hurt like a bitch. He had to waddle-walk for almost a week last time it happened.

He patted the side of her neck somewhat bitterly, adjusted his pants near the crotch, and snuck another withered glance at Francis, who was snapping venomously at his soft merry band of goons.

Sniggering, Wade leaned in close to Blind Al, as if to share a secret, "He actually expects us to call him Ajax," he jeered, and Blind Al whinnied impatiently, stomping her hooves into the dewy hillside grass. Her interests obviously weren't in the petty human name-game.

"For such an old horse, you'd think you would've mellowed out by now," he told her as he flipped the reins over her head. She nickered again, which he took as whole-hearted agreement.

Compared to the other young and fresh palfreys of the group, Blind Al looked positively ancient. She was older than every animal sharing the hillside, with her raggedy gray-streaked mane, frail-looking legs, and milky white eyes - due to going half-blind sometime in her ungraceful aging. Or maybe she was just born that way, Wade didn't know. She was as cranky as she was old, and a hell of a lot more stubborn. Why he picked her for his outing was beyond the comprehension of himself and everyone involved. With a man as tall and packed as he, everyone had expected him to fight for the stronger, younger-looking horses.

But Wade was never one to stray from breaking expectations.

He liked her spunk. Besides, she was a lot stronger than anyone gave her credit for, and has easily handled his weight since the first day he's ridden her. Which, frankly, had been just yesterday, and had also ended with him getting bucked off into a pile of manure.

Damn you, Al.

But, if he wasn't lying to himself, he'd say there was a touch of sentiment behind it too. Within the miniscule window of time they've been together, Blind Al got along with him better than most people did in his lifetime. She also listened to his jokes without complaint.

All the palfreys were born and bred right there on the island, and trained to navigate its terrain from birth. They could climb these mountains easier than any person could, with twice the stamina and strength, in half the time. The breeder even gave them his certified promise that they wouldn't be any problems. Even commended Wade for choosing Blind Al. She was the strongest of the stock, and had bred quite a few good palfrey in her day.

Blind Al stomped her hooves again, as if she knew what he was thinking about, and tossed her head, letting out a high whinny.

"Alright you cranky cuss, we're about off," Wade snipped and quickly readjusted the cowl over his nose. Snatching the reins, he lead her up the small plateau of the hill that marked the beginning of their hike.

At his back, the morning breeze trifled through their dusty corner of shacks and small storehouses that hugged the single dock of the island. Nestled in the water, rocking lightly against the long wooden dock, the immense vessel they sailed to the island on stood tall and broad-backed in comparison the the slouching buildings on land. Its starch sales were tied down as the crew onboard cleaned her up for her next voyage, which would be happening in a few days. It was a mighty boat that loomed like a castle on water, big enough to hold the creatures they were on this island to get.

Wade's fingers tingled at the thought. But that might've just been sweat. It may be morning, but humidity never slept. Sweat was already forming around his neck and back, where the thick fabric of his cloak and cowl pooled around his shoulders. His fingers were slick and wet inside his leather gloves, and he rolled his wrist and shook his fingers to loosen the build-up. He rolled his shoulders and shook his arms too, hoping vainly that it'd shake off some of his discomforts.

Sweat always irritated the scars and made the fabric its own type of scratchy, but it was a burden he learned to bear constantly, every day, if it meant keeping it on. The only times he ever went unclothed was when he was bathing or sleeping, and even then he carried his clothes in a bundle with him. Just in case.

So you'd think he'd grow use to the stifling heat.

On the crest of the hill, Captain Rogers was on his feet giving orders to saddle up, whilst getting on the cases of those who were behind schedule. His little brown-skinned squire-in-training scurried around the ranks too, helping where he could by filling the water-skins from the small well nearby.

Sitting on a palfrey beside the Captain was their leading dragon expert, Master Bruce Banner. Even sitting on his sturdy horse, Banner looked small and awkward next to the broad-shouldered and muscled packed form of Sir Rogers, with his narrow face and scraggly hair. He reminded Wade of the field mice he used to chase as a kid.

Master Banner was as shy as he was timid, especially for someone smarter than more than half the population of the Stark Province. Usually, someone of his influence would make it a point to remind everyone around him that they were inferior to his intellectual authority. At least, that's what most of the masters did. But not Bruce Banner. He didn't normally seek out conversation, and when he did, it was usually a short correction of pronunciation or fact. He kept to the background easily, never attracting unwanted attention, and had the patience of the most tender-hearted saint.

More often than not, Wade noticed, the Master dissociated from the group and spent most of him time examining plant-life or scribbling down notes in his papers, obviously more intrigued by his environment than the brutish conversation of the knights. In fact, the only ones he's ever really talked to on this expedition was Captain Rogers and the Captains little squire, Miles Morales.

But maybe there was still time to change that.

Call Wade a kiss-ass, but he wouldn't mind being in the good graces of the smartest man in the Stark Province. Maybe he could even learn a bit more about the place they were heading to. All Captain Rogers told them was that it was a place referred to as the Dragon Grounds, and that it was where they'd be getting their dragon. If Wade happened to pick up a tip or two while he was near Master Banner, then who was he to complain?

Grasping the leather reins, he planted his foot in the stirrup and swung up on the aging back of his horse. Blind Al nickered and threw her head, but balanced his weight with ease. Squeezing her sides with his thighs, he urged her into a huffy stride, toward Captain Rogers and Master Banner.

It was strange seeing Captain Rogers in anything but his Guard uniform and training gear, like the mediocre linen shirt and trousers he wore now - all pristine and clean, in opposition to the rest of the troops, Wade noted. Sir Rogers still wore his sword on his belt, but his iconic shield, known by everyone throughout the land, was missing from its normal place on his back. It was strange seeing it gone.

With that shield, Captain Steve Rogers demanded the attention and loyalty of any soldier within proximity. One look at it, and Wade was sure he could get a barrel of rats to fall in line.

However, even without it, his shoulders were square and his stride confident. His eyes alone held enough authority to snap even the most rebellious soldier in line. Case in point, Wade Wilson himself.

Despite all of his superior prowess, though, when Captain Rogers saw Wade coming, he smiled warmly and nodded in greeting. Just as he could be the most hard-worn officer Wade has ever had the grace to meet, he had the gentlest nature too. He was as humble as he was capable, and never looked down on  _anyone._  No matter the circumstances.

Maybe that was what had drawn Wade to the Captain in the first place. He, of anyone, was someone to look down on. The things he's done was enough to disgust the most nefarious, rotten, gore-stained people in all of the three provinces. Yet, Captain Rogers had never once judged him for it. Never looked at him like he belonged on the underside of a farmer's boot. And that alone had Wade all but shoving his respect and loyalty in the Captains lap, like a faithful dog wanting affection.

Sir Rogers's greeting was quick as he returned his attention to organizing the troops. Master Banner nodded in greeting as well, somewhat awkwardly, once Wade settled his palfrey next to him, but didn't attempt a conversation.

Unfortunately for him, Wade did.

Wade slanted his hand over his eyes to block the sun's glare and took a long stretching glance over the sky. "So," he said longly, "how much farther to the site? It's not long is it?"

Master Banner shifted in his saddle, a small awkward grimace settling on his brow, but he followed the direction of Wade's eyes, as if seeing an imaginary trail Wade couldn't. "Oh - uh, if the pace of the expedition is anything to go by, there's a chance we'll make it a little before sundown," was his answer, all soft and low. Like a mouse. But by his irritated countenance, Wade deduced the Master wasn't too happy about their progress. Or lack-thereof.

The Master shifted toward Captain Rogers and enunciated loudly (in a strangely quiet way) "Which means we should probably get a move on."

When Captain Roger's looked over his shoulder, it was just shy of sheepish. "I have reason to believe that was for me?"

The Master nodded stiffly and turned his palfrey to face the invisible path. "We should at least strive to get the next site with a few hours of daylight left, thus we can properly set up camp and get a meal going. There's little we can do in the dark."

"Aye, then we  _should_ get going," Captain Rogers swung up on his own horse. He glanced over his shoulder at the organized group, shouting, "'Right, let's move out," and fell in the lead next to Banner.

Wade waited and settled in the group coming up behind them, and like that, their journey continued. Within minutes they reached the top of the hill and entered the marsh jungles.

* * *

* * *

The hours flew with Wade filling in the silence of his group with idle chatter about everything, from the fluffy clouds that took on the shape of his favorite knives, to a piece of Blind Al's shit that took on a startling resemblance to Francis's face. Around early-noon, Wade had driven off his entire group and effectively warded off the remaining groups behind him. Eventually, he fell behind the entire party altogether, trailing in isolation like a loose thread on a shirt.

Not that it bothered him. With a rapid mouth like his, he's gotten used to being ignored and brushed off. Besides, the troops were hardly good for conversation. Blind Al was better company than the whole lot of them.

At high-noon, Captain Rogers stopped the party by a stream to rest the horses and eat a quick noonday meal of stale biscuits and cheese.

It was supposed to be an innocent break before they went the rest of the way to the stop site. Yet, much to the resigned dismay of Captain Rogers, it was not without incident. As Wade stopped to wash up near the stream, Francis and his goons ambushed him and wasted no time pushing him in. They had a good laugh when Wade trudged out of the water, soaked and covered in mud, but he was hardly sour about it. The only reason he was even washing up in the first place was because he'd just finished stuffing their saddlebags with mud.

The rest of the journey went without a hitch though. As the sun climbed higher and Wade's jokes got tamer in his loneliness, his eyes trailed the sky looking for the one thing that was going to make this trip with Francis and his feather-stuffed lackeys worth it.

A dragon.

The sole reason for this hellish expedition. There was no other explanation Wade would give himself for going on the 7-day journey, by land and sea, to the Dragon Grounds with this lot - with the exceptions of Captain Rogers and Master Banner, of course.

The expedition across the Dragon Isle seas to Batl'Ar, a small island just off the coast of the Stark Province, came only once every year. The party consisted only of specially trained knights, all under the watch and order of Captain Rogers, of whom was King Stark's oldest and most trusted army officer.

See, the chance to bond with a dragon wasn't for everyone. The Knights of the Dragon Guard went through years of grueling training to prepare for such a chance. Those few years fished out the trainees incapable of handling a dragon and the stress of the Guard. Those remaining went on this very expedition to bond and bring home a dragon, which brought forth another few years of training - with their dragon this time - to learn and apply their combined skills in combat.

Naturally, there was still a catch. It was completely irresponsible to allow a dragon with just  _anyone_. The destruction and carnage that could be wrought if someone with impure intentions bonded with a dragon were unfathomable. In consequence, every knight petitioning for a dragon had to undergo a greatly extensive test. If a participant with any criminal background tried to get in, they were instantly rejected. If it seemed as though their intentions for a dragon were anything other than pure, they were rejected. If their reasons for a dragon was selfish or impudent, they were rejected.

Wade, when hearing this bit while petitioning, had been certain they wouldn't even let him take the test. They'd take one look at him and reject him on the spot. With a background like his, they should've bound him in chains, sewn in him in a bag, and thrown him off a ship in the middle of a monster-infested ocean. It was the logical thing to do.

But, to the complete astonishment of him and his whole class, he passed. And once the test was over, there had been no time to question the sanity of the administrators, nor wonder if they've conked their heads, or question their - albeit terrible - decision to keep him on, as the next part of his training began. Besides, he wasn't about to let this opportunity slide. Once he had a dragon of his own, none of the mocking and jesting from Francis and his goons would matter. He could take his place on Captain Roger's guard, as he has been training endlessly for. He'd finally be given the opportunity to do something right with his life.

Yet, oddly, as the sun climbed the sky, Wade had yet to spot a dragon. It was said that the islands of the Dragon Isles were crawling with them - part of the reason they were  _called_ the Dragon Isles in the first place.

The other night, in the near indistinguishable tavern of the Islands inhabitants, Wade had listened in raptured attention to the stories from one of the Natives as she talked about trekking through the mountains. She claimed that you couldn't throw a rock 5 feet in the jungles without hitting a dragon.

Wade scowled at the empty sky, glaring nastily at the flock of birds that had gotten his hopes up. Maybe her information was ill-put, for he hasn't seen so much as a scaled tale in the underbrush. Perhaps her ghastly tale of a foreigner who didn't obey their rules and never returned to the settlement was a fib  _too._

Gradually, the sun burnt the sky orange and the party arrived at their resting site. Instantly upon arriving, the groups split into their respective jobs. Assigned knights went out to hunt for the evening meal, others retrieved water from a nearby stream, while the rest set up tents, collected wood, started fires, and took care of the horses.

Wade was disregarded, as usual. (He didn't think the other knights liked him very much.) But he was used to being left to his own devices, and took it on the nose. Besides, the other knights never knew the proper way to brush down Blind Al, anyway. He tended to her first, as was their firmly instructed priority.

He carefully removed the saddle, bridle, and reins, and set to brushing the sweat from her coat. Once old Al was taken care of and vegging on a patch of grass, Wade set up his tent and unpacked the measly weapons he was allowed to bring. They were instructed to pack lightly, but Wade hardly went anywhere without his two most prized possessions. Humming appreciatively, he withdrew the two long blades from their oiled sheaths, tossing away the thin sheets they'd been wrapped in. The sharp  _shnnnnn_  it made as they pulled free made him shiver pleasantly.

"Aww, and how are my babes doing," he cooed, running a gloved thumb over the edge of one of the blades, smiling when the steel cut through the leather easily and nicked the scarred skin underneath. But his smile turned just as quickly to a frown when he noticed a few nicks on the fine steel.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," he tsked, "Oh, my sweet babies. Hush, worry not, Sir Wilson will take care of you now," he picked a whetstone and clothe from his pack, and ran them along the sword's edge, shushing them softly, "I'll be gentle. I'll be gentle."

Once the first was sharp, gleaming, and beautiful again, he did the same to the other, keeping up with his whispers of sweet-nothings. The splay of color from the rapidly sinking sun in the steel sparkled beautifully on the blade, and had him shifting the angle to catch every bit of light greedily. When, at last, each sword was polished and sharpened to perfection, Wade carefully re-sheathed them and hid the precious bundle in a thick bush near Blind Al.

There was absolutely no way he was leaving them out with the likes of Francis around. Just for this reason, Wade kept them behind Blind Al because he  _knew_ she'd kick anyone who came near - which she'd tried to do to  _him_ at few times now, so he knew it was effective. Certain they'd be safe, he wondered past his lonely campsite to find something to sate his growling hunger.

As expected, the groups settled around different fires closed off as soon as they saw him coming, claiming there was no more room before he had the chance to tell them to fuck off - that, or impolitely impede their space because it was hilarious to watch them squirm. He didn't care if they didn't want to sit with him. He'd gladly get a plate of beans and dried meat and eat on his own, but  _they_  didn't seem to take the hint.

Fortunately, he was saved from soiling his record of minimal ally injury when Captain Rogers called him over to the fire he, his little squire, and Master Banner occupied. Grinning smugly at the jealous looks of his cohorts, Wade all but skipped over.

Sir Roger raised a cup to him in greeting. Miles Morales looked up fleetingly from tending the small skinned beast sizzling above the flames. A herb mixture had been rubbed into the meat, sending plums of heavenly aroma in the air that put all the meals of the other troops to shame. Wade tried to inhale as much of the delicious smoke as possible, which was both hunger-inducing and painful.

Coughing into his fist, eyes watering, he sat next to little Miles, swatting the smoke away when it came back around at him intent on revenge. "So, when do we eat?"

Master Banner glanced up from the bottles of herbs and sauces he was tucking back into his little pack to check their meal. "Soon," he decided after a second. "Give it a little more time," and went back to cleaning up.

Wade gave a heaving sigh. "Oh, but the hunger," he swooned, leaning against the log, arching his back like a damsel in distress. Master Banner rolled his eyes, which Wade convinced himself was out of fond amusement, while the Captain nodded in solemn agreement. Miles timidly offered Wade a tin cup, which he took with a hearty thanks, and filled generously with mead from the good-sized water-skin brought along for the journey. He sipped it with relish and relaxed back against his log, sighing in contentment.

"Someone's in a good mood," Master Banner said quietly, and Wade did his best not to preen by stuffing his nose into his mug. It was a compliment if Master Banner so much as acknowledged him, more so when he actually noticed his attitude. The Master could be so reserved that, if not for his apparent eye for detail, Wade would've wondered if he paid attention to anyone at all.

Instead of giving into his bubbling excitement, Wade tipped his head over to look at him, "Pardon, but I'm  _always_  in a good mood."

Miles snorted, but instantly froze when Wade turned his eyes on him. "Disagree?" Wade smirked.

"W-well," the squire muttered, finding a sudden interest in the fats dripping on the coals. "It-it's just that the other day you seemed kind of angry, is all."

Ah, he was observant too.

Wade shrugged and put his cup back to his lips. "Fair enough," he conceded after coming back up for air. "But we all know that Francis threw the first rock, and don't you dare say otherwise. I'll stand by it till my dying breath."

Maybe he  _was_  in an extra good mood. There was an excited bubbling in his chest whenever he thought about the expedition, and tonight was such a fine night that it was hard to be foul. Perhaps the stars were in alignment, or the old Saints were smiling down on him. Whatever it was, Captain Rogers seemed to pick up on it too.

"Bruce might be right," he said, balancing his cup on his knees, barely keeping a hold of the handle with his fingers so it didn't topple over, "You seem in a happier mood. What's on your mind, son?"

Heh, son. Wade was far from being a son anymore, given that he was almost as tall as Rogers, and just as thick with muscle. Hardly anyone worth calling "son." But while it was something the Captain referred to everyone as, it still left something warm glowing in Wade's chest. It could be just the way he perceived it, but sometimes it felt as though the Captain said it with more warmth when it was addressed to him. Like Wade wasn't just another knight in the troop. Like actually belonged there.

Or that was wishful thinking conjured up by the messed up interior of his head. Captain Rogers regarded everyone with respect and equal treatment. Wade was no different.

Still, his smile was wide all the same. "'Course I'm happier," he chirped, "by this time tomorrow, I'll be sailing home on a dragon of my own. Just thinking about those muscles between my thighs," he grinned lewdly and slapped his legs, grinning at Mile's aghast expression. "Gets me excited every time."

Steve snorted, probably used to hearing all kinds of lewd things from soldiers. That, and he was probably getting used to Wade's humor by now - poor guy. Besides, Wade's heard the Captain had a bit of dirty humor himself when he let it show. Wouldn't that be the day?

"Let me tell you, there's nothing quite as exhilarating as taking your first flight." Captain Rogers sighed, staring off into the flames with a ghosting smile on his lips.

After a minute, he blinked and shook his reminiscing off, and stared at Wade with a sudden seriousness. "But you soldiers won't be riding them for too long. Not without saddles. Without protection, those scales will chafe you like nothing," he grimaced, absentmindedly rubbing the undersides of his legs.

Wade leaned forward, propping his head on his hands with owlish, unblinking eyes. "Oh Mister Captain," he said, voice innocent and pitched like a young schoolboy, "Please, oh please tell us again how you got your dragon."

Steve rolled his eyes and picked his cup back up to hid his small grin, "How many times do I have to tell that story?"

"Not enough to get sick of it," Miles answered for Wade, interest aligning seamlessly with the older knights as he drew his legs up against his chest. "Please tell us again..uh...Sir..."

Both he and Wade had probably heard the story a dozen times already, but the Captain's story was practically legendary. Known all throughout the land, not just as a story, but as history in the making.

Captain Rogers took another prolonged drink, downing the rest of his mead, and set the cup down next to his feet. "Alright, alright" he said, getting comfortable on his rock, enacting the same from Wade, Miles, and even Banner, who settled against the log with a resigned sigh. Being around the Captain so much, he's probably heard it countless times too.

"I found Bucky during the Dragon War. King Howard had sent me on a reconnaissance mission with a group from the Hammer Province. Now I wasn't much of a soldier then. In fact," his smirk was sly, "I was a bit of a scrawny kid. I was brought along to tend to the horses and meals, while the group tracked down a rogue dragon taking out our supply wagons. When they  _did_ manage to track it down," an appreciative nod, "it really was some dragon. Big and angry, tearing up wagons and people mercilessly. Our group got in and took him by surprise. Barely managed to tie him down, though. Not without sacrificing some of our own men.

"Their mission was to take him out immediately, but my group, they," Rogers grimaced, as if he tasted something sour, "they wanted to have a little fun with him first. They poked and stabbed him with hot-iron rods, getting 'im on the soft scales of his underbelly and his wings. I finally intervened when they were gonna burn his eyes out, and, well, they didn't really appreciate that. They beat me, threatened me with the same fate, and sent me back to work. But I wasn't about to let them torture that dragon. When I had the chance, I started unlocking the chains and cutting the ropes to let him free. They spotted me real quick though. I got to his head, figuring he may as well be able to defend himself, but when I looked into his eyes, I..." Sir Rogers tapered softly, mind flying somewhere far in the past. His voice was wistful when he continued, "It was like this spark just lit up inside me. It was like I was him, and he was me. I could feel it tying us together. Linking us. It was...it's hard to explain."

After a moment, Master Banner coughed into his fist and Sir Rogers jerked back up, rising out of the memory like the smoke to their fire, and blinked, "Oh, right, sorry, got lost there for a minute."

Wade waved him on, breathless and in awe, "Yes. Yes. Then what happened?"

"Well, it caught me off guard. One of the soldiers from my group got me from behind. Would've killed me in not for the dragon. He burst through the rest of the chains and saved me, then took out the rest of the group. I admit, I thought he was going to kill me too. But...he didn't. When he stopped, he just looked down at me, then...flew away. Flew away, just like that. Damn thing looked just about as scared as I did."

"But he  _did_  come back," Miles said, eyes round and unblinking.

"Yep. Found me again while I was in the forest tracking a buck. Didn't get the buck, but I managed to bring him back with me. King Stark, er – I suppose he was just Prince Anthony at the time, he had taken me to the side sometime ago, saying how uniting with dragons was the key to end the war. After getting Bucky, well," Steve shrugged, " I was converted to his principles of dragons and humans living together. You guys should know the rest of the story. We raised our army, brought the war to an end, established the treaty, started the Dragon Guard, yada, yada, yada."

Wade snorted. "You make it sound easy."

"Oh, it definitely wasn't easy," Sir Rogers shook his head, suddenly grim. "Definitely not."

Wade leaned back against the log, tapping his finger against his cup. He didn't think he could voice just how much that story took his breath away. It was the way Wade always hoped he and his dragon would bond. He liked to imagine looking into those reptilian eyes and seeing a being that reflected himself.

Size didn't matter when bonding to a dragon, nor shape, nor ferocity and Wade didn't try and judge by those qualities. But, even so, after the meal was eaten, the fires were out, and he lay inside his tent, his mind was filled with the images of his future dragon. It would be tall, dark, imposing, and dangerous in every conceivable way. Something that couldn't be hurt easily. Something that could keep up with his chatter, and stamina, and lust for a good ol' fight.

Wade dreamed of flying on a dragon black as night.

* * *

* * *

He should've known everything was gonna go to shit.

It was too perfect a day for it not too.

He had woken up with the faintest remnants of his favorite dream – the one where he was in brothel house, lying next to dark-haired beauty - which instantly put him in an ardent mood. Not only that, but Blind Al was acting a lot less cranky this morning, he got to watch Francis choke on a biscuit, and Steve asked Wade to ride with him, Miles, and Banner.

And they were going to reach the Dragon Grounds TODAY!

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

The jungles around them got thick and dense, while the ground turned into an upward slope as they started up the steep trail into the mountain. It was a strenuous hike, and for once Wade was feeling bad for choosing Blind Al. While the horse was strong and sassy, and specially trained to handle terrains like this, no animal should have to carry his sorry ass uphill for so long. In was this pity that had him getting off on foot as often as possible, so he could to lead her up the trail by rein. It was exhausting and extremely hot, his thick folds of clothes felt damp and weighted, but it eased whatever muted conscious he had left.

It was nearing high noon when the left side of the jungle broke off into a high cliff that overlooked a thick tapestry of tree's blanketing the earth floor, and farther past that, an ocean churned in the horizon. Wade's never been one to get anxious with heights, but even he knew that a drop from this height wouldn't be fun.

The cliff barely appeared before their party halted. Captain Rogers reigned his horse around to look over the troops. "We're nearing a testy part of the trail," he said, voice hushed and soft, barely carrying over the group. "Stay as quiet as possible. If I hear any racket, we'll finish this expedition on foot."

Next to him, Master Banner added, so quiet Wade could see the knights leaning forward to hear him, "And stay alert. Keep an eye out for any hostile dragons, especially females with eggs or dragonlings. If we encounter one, do not engage with violence," his voice was firm and full of warning. Blind Al shifted as if she could sense the tension behind his words, and Wade pat her neck.

"Easy there you old cuss," he whispered, not unkindly. "Don't worry, you'll be back in your stable before you know it." She tossed her head in doubt.

The party continued, this time quiet and light-footed. Even Francis and his soft-brained lackeys held back their usual taunts and jibes. The Dragon Grounds were no joking matter. Ever since the Dragon War ended and a treaty was established between the dragons and humans, peace has lasted, but there were only a select group of dragons willing to bond. There were other temperamental dragons (and people) who still weren't sure of the practice.

The Dragon War wasn't long ago, nearing 18 years, and the bitter feelings between their two species still ran deep. One step over the line could result in a painful death-by-fire-and-teeth or an equally painful sword to the gut.

But even with their small troop (just 15 people, including Morales, Banner, and Rogers), it was slow-going work. Occasionally, the whole party would stop so Master Banner could determine whether they were nearing a nest. Sometimes he veered them off course, and other times he lead them on. As time ticked, the taut muscles of the group softened as they began fidgeting in their seats. Heads swiveled, butts shifted in saddles, fingers drummed against thighs. The horses were beginning to sense it too. They huffed and pawed at the ground, tossing their heads and nickering nervously.

At first, it was just nerves. They were all just anxious, ready to get to the Dragon Grounds and head back home. It was unnerving how quiet this jungle was. Back on their home land, the jungles were loud and brash. There was always an ambience to it, be it the bugs, the predators, or nature herself. Here, it was as if mother nature had stopped moving. The world held its breath as they climbed the mountain, watching wide-eyed and nervous, knowing that they tread on the fine-line of unity and violence.

The silence felt as heavy as his cowl, and draped over him just as much, seeping into his skin like perspiration and making him yearn to itch. It numbed his throat; as if just one word from him could snap the fragile tenor of the mountainside.

It was this silence that made it possible to hear Master Banner's sudden inhale of breath up front. He cursed, and all of the sudden, the tenor broke.

The palfreys all reeled back with whinnying shrieks as an earsplitting roar rattled the wind and a sharp crack snapped from the forestry as the tree's to the right of them bowed. Slowly, the curled snout of a dragon rose from the shadows of the branches, scaled lips pulling back with bared fangs. A pair of reptilian slit eyes bore down at them, bright and eager like a wildfire to a dry prairie.

Master Banner cursed again, louder over the uproar, but Wade kept his focus on gripping his reins and soothing Al before she launched him off the cliff. Her nostrils were flared, milky eyes wide and strained, but she calmed to Wade's touch enough for Wade to steer her over to Captain Rogers

"What happened?" he bellowed over another ear-splitting roar.

"Got too close to a nest," Master Banner answered, struggling fitfully to keep his horse still enough to simultaneously size up the dragon. "Do NOT engage in violent combat," he grit, struggling to keep his grip on the reins as his palfey tossed his head. "She's only protecting her younglings."

Captain Roger grabbed the reins from Master Banner, helping him settle his palfrey as he glanced over the troop, eyes narrowing on the knights going for their swords.

"Stand down!" he boomed, voice easily carrying over the dragon's roar. They had all been trained under that commanding voice, and its effects were no less different than in the Training Arena. Hands instantly strayed from their swords, and every head swiveled to the Captain for orders.

The mother dragon was half-way out of the tree's now, and was edging closer to them with every minute spent in her presence. She was a big dragon, easily over 15 ft tall, with a thick hide of scars marring her faded-green scales. Battle wounds, no doubt. A possible veteran of the war. Wade didn't know her story, but  _damn_  did he want to. Her long chipped claws dug gouges into the earth, and her snarl was as loud and splitting as a falling tree. Vaguely, between her legs, he could see the wide, narrowed eyes of 3 baby dragons, all who were baring their own cute little fangs in imitation to their mother. She was just protecting her brood, that's all. They couldn't fault her for that.

Everything would be fine as soon as they moved past.

Wade did his best to ignore her and help the Captain reorganize the party, and for a minute, things seemed to be going well. Until mother-dragon decided they weren't going fast enough. She lunged forward, roar escalating like thunder over the mountain-tops. Somewhere in the distance, Wade heard an answering call.

If she attracted the help of more dragons, they would be in some deep shit. Deep, DEEP shit.

The horses were getting riled up again. They jumped and skittered, pawing at the ground and rearing in distress. Their riders could hardly keep them in control without turning their backs to the mother dragon, which went against the first rule they were ever taught. Never turn your back to a dragon, especially an angry one.

Off the side, Miles was desperately trying to calm his horse, which had tottered a dangerous distance to the cliff-side. Its ears were back, eyes blown with panic, and legs skittering feverishly. Wade knew what was going to happen before he could even warn the squire. Like clock-work, the horse lifted its back legs and bucked Miles clean off. Thankfully, it wasn't  _off_ the cliff. The boy rolled across the ground, unwillingly following the subtle tilt the ground as it took him toward the trees and stopped him barely 10 feet from the mother.

That was the last straw.

Eyes blazing, mother-dragon lunged forward, maw open as she went for the kill. But Wade was already in motion, racing across the ground just as the horse had bucked the squire, much to the displeasure of Blind Al. As soon as he was close enough, he hurled one of his hidden knives as hard as he could. The blade skidded harmlessly off the scales of the dragon's jaw with nary a blemish or scuff, but it was enough to draw her attention that her strike missed the boy by less than an inch. Scrambling up, face skew and pale, Miles tripped over his legs in his haste to get away.

Fortunately, with a bit of trial and error, he managed to get back to the group. Captain Rogers lifted him up onto his palfrey where he clutched the general tightly, shaking, close to tears, but unhurt.

Unfortunately, that left mother dragon's attention on Wade.

Her lips curled back against her teeth and Wade could feel the hot wave of her breath from where he was at. Blind Al whinnied in terror. Wade responded with another comforting pat, as good as that did.

"Easy," he murmured, but his voice only seemed to irritate her more. "Don't worry. There won't be baked horse tonight. You'd probably taste terrible and gamey anyway," Blind Al danced on her hooves, not completely convinced.

With a snap of her teeth, mother-dragon lunged for her new target. Wade clicked his tongue, jabbing Al with his heel, and she bounced away from the attack. With enough space between himself and mother dragon, Wade dived off Blind Al's back and rolled along the ground, coming to a stop on his knees. As soon as she was free, Al bolted back into the safe ranks of the troop.

Wade jumped to his feet, hands closing over his shoulders for his swords, only there was no hilt to curl his hand around. Well, shit just turned to  _dammit_! He'd forgotten they were still in his pack with Blind Al.

A throaty growl bubbled past Mother-dragon throat, sounding somewhat amused, as she stalked forward, forcing Wade to step back, and step back, and step back until his heel hit open air and he was teetering on the edge of the cliffside. With a gasp, he leaned forward to catch something - anything - for stability. His hands caught something hard, hot, and rough. A dragon nostril. He froze, then grinned tightly at mother-dragon, going for a charming smile that felt too strained. The breath from her nose was scalding and slowly melting the leather of his gloves to his skin.

Her eyes brightened, excited, eager, and bloodthirsty. She jerked forward and slammed her snout directly into Wade's chest.

Mother nature held her breathe again. Time hung in the air. Wade felt himself fall back. Mother-dragon and her steaming nostrils flared haughtily at him as she got smaller and smaller, and that's when he realized he was falling. Then time resumed and he dropped like a stone. With greedy hands, the wind snagged his breath, and no sooner, tree limbs were snapping around him. Branches smacked his body, both crushing under his weight and cracking against his skin. Leaves smacked his face, vines caught on his limbs, jerking them in all directions until a loud  _pop_  hit his ears and his arm burst into ragged pain.

He was tossed through the trees like a ragged doll as the ground approached rapidly. He barely managed to glimpse soft tufts of grass and a few blooming wildflowers before he crushed them.

Face first.

* * *

* * *

When Wade finally found a way back to consciousness, the first thing he was fully aware of was that there was grass in his mouth.

It took only a second for the rest of his body to catch up, and the ripping sensation of pain reached his senses and he groaned, squeezing his eyes back shut. His arm was pinned under his body, likely broken, while the rest of him was sprawled across the ground like a human splatter.

Wincing, he timidly tried shifting into a more comfortable position, but that was an instant mistake. Every single muscle, bone, and piece of mottled flesh on his body seized with burning pain, and Wade wondered if somehow he had fallen into a pot of boiling grease.

"Oh shit fucker in a brothel barn," he gasped into the grass, going lax again. That was...unpleasant. Not that falling off a cliff and hitting every fucking tree in the forest was usually fun.

"Stupid mother-dragon of a bloody-toe eating troll - what the hell was with that?" Wade hissed into the dirt, voice getting higher with each new wash of pain. It's not like we wanted her stupid, small, rat-faced babies in the first place!

Hissing again, he relaxed as best he could, letting his healing take the mantle as he mindlessly nibbled on the grass. Gradually, his body came back to life, prickling like overheated sewing-needles as his skin pulled itself together and bones fell into place. For half a second, he contemplated throwing up. Nausea was one of the worst effects of his stupid healing. If he was going to throw up, just let him throw up. None of this fluctuating crap.

But at least he wasn't slowly dying a tree-skinned death anymore. That's always a plus, he supposed. Still, even feeling remotely grateful for the  _heal-from-all-hell_  curse that shit-faced, mother-fuck gave to him made him feel as though he'd swallowed something rotten.

It would've been a lot more merciful to let him die like he was supposed to.

A plum of hot breath suddenly raced across his neck and drew Wade's attention again, halting all previous thoughts. He became dully aware of a small thud drawing near, and through the corner of his eyes, a claw-like blurr stopped near his head. A dark, looming shadow fell over him, and he slowly lifted his face from the ground, grass hanging from his opened lips where his cowl had been ripped off and was, likely, caught somewhere in the trees. Squinting, he stared up at the blurry red and blue-scaled muzzle of, what appeared to be, another dragon.

He scowled, tilting his head.

The blurry red and blue-scaled muzzle of a dragon  _smirking_ at him.

Perhaps it was the way it was looking at him, or the uncomfortable feel of its hot breath, or the all-to recent experience he just had with a dragon, but an angry molten ball of goo plopped in chest, dripping down his ribs, into his heart, and Wade glared heatedly.

"If you're going to eat me, good luck with _that_ ," he spat, collapsing back into the dirt. "I'm a lot harder to kill than I look."

The dragon's shadow tilted and its breathing on him pause. A beat passed, and a sound crawled from its mouth. A deep sound from the throat, short and abrupt, but not necessarily threatening. It repeated the noise again and again until Wade realized, with an incredulous start, that the thing was _laughing_  at him.

The goo in his chest bubbled and his glared tightened as he craned his neck to meet its face. "You've got to be shitting me," he growled, trying to blink the fuzziness from his eyes. "No, stop it. There is absolutely nothing funny about this, you little shit."

It laughed at him again. Wade propped himself up on his elbows in a futile attempt to sit up that resulted in him collapsing again when his legs refused to work. He was laughed at again.

"Know what?  _Know what_? I don't even care anymore, you little fucker," he stuffed his face back into the dirt, "I do  _not_  care anymore. But, hey, if you are looking for someone to eat, there's this very tasty morsel just over the ridge of that cliff. He goes by the name of Francis, or Ajax if he's trying to be tough. If you're looking for someone to cook, he's your guy."

The dragon fell silent again, and for a second Wade was convinced it left. Until he felt that hot breath on his neck again as the dragon inhaled. It sniffed at his face and nudged at his side gently.

"Yes, I'm still alive." Wade snapped.

"Oh, well,  _what_  a relief," a man's voice snarked and Wade jolted back up. He looked at the dragon - which was still blurry because he's pretty sure nearly his entire eyeball had been scooped out - then around the tree's encircling them, injuries mildly forgotten. He couldn't tell if there was a guy hiding out in the trees.

"Did you just..." he glanced around again, fruitless in his efforts to spot another human being. "Did you just  _talk_?"

Then, slowly, as if the entire world was mocking him, the dragons blurred face grinned.

The little fucker curled back its blurry, scaly lips and honest-to-the-Saints grinned at him, as if they were sharing some secret. Its body shifted and for a minute Wade thought it was getting closer. Instead, it backed up and turned, waltzing back into the shadows of the tree's, tail swishing pleasantly behind it.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wade dug his finger in the dirt, abandoning all sense of dignity as he crawled after it. "Wait, you can't just laugh at me and leave. You-you talked, you definitely talked. Or…maybe that was your lunch speaking, but still, you-," his body spasmed, every inch of skin burned, definitely not appreciating his efforts to move. "Get - get back here you little fucker!"

The dragon stopped. Slowly, it turned its neck around and glanced at Wade, cool and dismissive. It tilted its head as if only mildly curious.

And Wade thought Blind Al was sassy.

He squinted again, trying to make out the dragon more clearly. It was weirdly shaped. Like it didn't have a clearly define body. Also, he was almost positive something was jutting out of its sides.

Wade crawled a little further across the ground. "Come on, I'm  _dying_ over here."

The dragon snorted and small puff of white smoking curled from its nostrils. It stared at him, almost as if thinking about the situation. Wade tried to ease its options with a crooked, grass muddied grin.

The dragon turned to leave the clearing again.

Wade cursed, then cursed again, and plopped back into the dirt. He sighed miserably. Stupid dragons, and their stupid issues, and their stupid babies, and their stupid attitudes.

How did the expedition party fare after the attack? If they survived it at all...

Or were they dealing with a sassy, self-righteous dragon too?

He shook his head stubbornly. No, they had to be alright. Captain Rogers AND Master Banner were there, the two most qualified people to have in a dragon attack. They had to be fine.

Now if he could just figure out a way to get back up there, things could be a _lot_  better. Maybe he could scale the cliff. If it wasn't too steep, he could probably make it up in a few hours. If the expedition managed to get out of it alive, Wade could track them to the Dragon Grounds. But the time it took to actually find the group all depended on how soon he'd heal. He's healed from worse, but even then it had taken, at the very least, quite a few hours.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Wade almost didn't hear the thudding of steps coming back up to him. All he could do was glance up, before suddenly there were claws wrapping around his middle, and the next thing he knew he was rising from the ground, bursting through the tree's, and soaring high over the tops.

"WHAT THE SHIIIIIIIIIT!"

Over his own terrified screaming, Wade heard the dragon laugh again.

**Phew, that was a long chapter. Everyone here and accounted for? Even you in the back? Whoo! Alrightie! First chapter is offically edited and reposted! Hallelujah!**

**The next chapter is long too (not as long), but it'll have more of this "mystery red and blue dragon" (cause we all don't know who** _**that's** _ **going to be). *wink wink***

**WHOO! I'm excited to get into this story with you guys! It's gonna be fun! You all better be ready for one heck of a ride! :P**

**That's all for now!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a role-reversal/alternate universe to the fanfic created by SeaonsofLauren called "Training Dragons and Other Sure Fire Ways to Die" from AO3
> 
> In this Peter is the dragon, and Wade is the knight/dragon rider.
> 
> (I got permission from the original author to use his/her work for this fic)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Spider-Man, Deadpool, or the characters.


	2. I've Got A Feelin. And It's Freaking Me Out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragon's head poked through the tree's above him, peeking down. It snorted at him, looking stuck between being irritated and amused.

Wade passed out two times.

Later, he convinced himself it was because of his injuries and not his complete and utter terror. But there was no way he could deny that in the few instances that he  _had_ opened his eyes during his sudden flight, he'd been terrified.

The first time he passed out happened right after take-off, when his breath was snagged and his head rushed from the sudden elevation. It probably didn't help that every single inch of his body was screaming bloody murder at him too.

He woke minutes later, judging by the fact that they were still in the air, only this time the wind speed had slowed considerably, and he wasn't feeling as dizzy. If he was still in his right mind and not hyped on pain, he'd have sworn the dragon had slowed for his benefit.

But that was ridiculous.

Hazily, he was aware that the dragon actually had an appealingly tight hold on him. He could feel its scaled limbs encasing his body in what kind of felt like a hug. Albeit, a very big, sort-of scratchy, and terrifying hug, but a hug all the same and that was  _kinda_ nice. You know, if not for the fact that he was dangling hundreds of feet in the air!

That was when he passed out the second time.

When he woke the second time, he was alone. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he was on the ground, and when he did, it took him several more moments to blink the disorientation from his eyes before sitting up.

It was dark out. The sun had been benighted for a sliver of moon that hung loosely over the sky. It didn't give nearly enough light to distinguish his surroundings, but he was pretty sure he was sitting in wild grass and that there was a running stream nearby. Squinting, he looked for a colossal shape in the shadows, but the dragon was nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, Wade wondered if his pain-consumed mind had cooked up that entire interaction. He'd been so mind-consumed with the Dragon Grounds lately that a hallucination about a dragon wasn't unreasonable. Sometimes his head cooked up weird shit when he was delusional with pain.

However, as much sense as that made to  _him_ , he quickly dispersed that idea all the same. Even with the small rays of light, he could tell he wasn't any near the cliffs, and there was no other logical explanation that he could elucidate on how he got there. A dragon had upped and carried him off, and was probably lurking in the shadows right now, waiting to pounce.

Around him, the dark foliage seemed to shift, and Wade quietly adjusted himself, feeling for the small knife concealed in his boot when he realized, with a jolting start, he was naked.

What. The.  _Fuck_.

Did the dragon do this? No, it couldn't. It shouldn't have been able. That thing was huge. Big...ish. Besides,  _why_ would it do that in the first place? Yeah, Wade found generally anyone attractive, but that didn't extend to animals. He was only joking with Miles; he wasn't serious about it.

Despite the way his body shook as it recovered from post-healing, Wade felt through the grass until his fingers grazed clothe, and he eagerly pulled his shirt to his chest. "Thank the Saints," he exclaimed, quickly putting it and his pants back on. Upon further search, he discovered one of his boots nearby. Only one though. So either the dragon was hoarding its mate, or he lost it during his fall.

There was no use having one shoe, but he couldn't bring himself to chuck it. The small knife hidden in the leather pouch inside was still intact, and besides, if bad came to worse, he could always throw it at the dragon.

Scowling at the shadowed trees, brandishing the small knife out, Wade examined his surroundings. "Where'd you go, dragon?"

The silence stretched thinly. The dragon didn't respond to his challenge and the night had fallen silent again. Maybe it really was gone. He couldn't hear any breathing, no shifting, or growls. There was a chance it was just stalking him from the shadows, but that didn't make much sense. Why would it wait for him to wake up to kill him? Why not just eat him and get it over with? Why the  _fuck_ were his clothes off in the first place?

The dragon was gone.

Sighing, Wade slumped back against the rock he was propped on. He still felt so tired. As fine and  _dandy_ it was having a healing factor, it came with its own set of side-effects, one of which ran along the lines of  _extreme_ exhaustion. He was wiped out. Healing, apparently, took a lot of energy, so he always felt weak and limp afterward. Not to mention the fever and sensitized skin that came after. After getting hurt so often – and believe him, he gets hurt  _a lot_  - he'd pulled himself into a routine of sleeping the enervative phase off, and his body was unhappy to break the cycle.

Deep down he knew he should probably be concerned about the dragon's whereabouts, and why the fuck he'd been stripped naked, and where the expedition party was, but the night breeze was like a cool blanket to his piping skin. He sleepily hushed his frantic thoughts, deciding in a terrible display of his irrational reasoning that he'd worry about it tomorrow.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

_ **~The Repercussions of War~** _

* * *

It was still night when Wade was woken by a thump at his feet and the sizzling aroma of cooked meat. His stomach growled in response and he instantly sat up, blinking down at the cooked carcass that appeared in the grass. Slowly, he looked up, just as the dragon collapsed in the grass, chowing down on the rest of the unfortunate beast in a ravished manner.

He blinked several more times before his mind rose from its slumber like a demonic spirit from hell, and he scrambled back against his rock, pulling his knife out from where he slipped it in the grass. Compared to the size of the dragon, his little weapon was laughable, but Wade knew all too well that the most delicate spot on a dragon was their underbelly. Even a small cut could be fatal if it was done right. If that dragon valued its life, it'd leave him alone.

However, if the dragon noticed his violent conduct it was doing a really good job of ignoring it. It didn't even spare Wade a glance as it chewed noisily on its kill. Wade sat motionless for several more moments before slowly lowering the knife. Well, it certainly didn't act like it wanted to kill him, but you never knew.

Carefully, eyes shifting periodically back up at the dragon, he examined the meat at his feet. Tentatively, he inched forward on his butt and probed at it with a finger. "Is…this for me?"

This time the dragons shadowy frame turned idly at him. It snorted once and continued eating, which wasn't much of an answer. Wade curled his legs up, keeping them close to his chest, with the knife still in hand. He'd admit, the meat smelled good. But while his stomach yearned for him to take a piece, his rational side (now back up and running) was ringing bells in his head. What if the food wasn't for him? What if the dragon was just saving it for later? As much fun as it was sassing off to Francis, this dragon could easily bite his head off if he so much as sneezed wrong.

Besides, the thing seemed temperamental. One minute it was going to leave him in the jungle, and the next it was kidnapping him. One minute it was gone and he was abandoned, and the next it was back with food. For once, Steve's advice seemed like the ideal course of action.  _Caution is your reluctant friend. It can hold you back, but it can also save your life._

He'd better just keep his hands to himself.

To distract himself from the enticing aroma, Wade glanced at the brightening sky. It was still several hours from dawn, but the barest bits of light were brushing the horizon sky. It still wasn't light enough to make out much of his surroundings, but it did tell him that his hour of escape was nigh. The thin moon peered dubiously over the treetops, teasing miniscule rays of light over the dragon. The scales that caught it twinkled, but otherwise offered nothing but a sharp gleam that hurt his eyes. He could distinguish the dragon's shape a little better, but that was it. He was still pretty sure the dragon was red and blue, but that may have been a trick of his healing mind.

Wade rocked back and forth in his spot, softly humming an old tavern song. He was only on the second chorus when the dragon huffed loudly and all of the sudden craned its neck toward him, and he instantly clambered back, hiking up his rock with the knife poised back in his hands. Instead of snapping at his toes though, the dragon carefully took the meat into its mouth.

He knew it wasn't for him and still, disappointment hit his gut. His stomach grumbled woefully. If the damn thing was going to eat it, the least it could do was not rub it in his face. But just as Wade begun wallowing in self-pity, the carcass hit his stomach and he fell off his rock. The dragon made its throaty laugh again as he slowly got up, rubbing his backside sorely, as it settled back in its spot, licking the remains of blood and meat from its talons.

Glaring at it, Wade pushed the meat off so it didn't burn his skin, and rather than throwing back at the dragon – as he was tempted to do - this time he gingerly turned it over, looking for a spot that wasn't mucked up with dirt. Once he did, his eyes flickered toward the dragon as he cut it off and slowly pulled it toward his mouth. There were no signs of hostility from the dragon. It continued cleaning its claws. Partially satisfied that it wouldn't get angry, Wade put the meat in his mouth and began to chew.

The dragon stretched its legs and settled into the grass. More confident, he picked skeptically at the cooked carcass some more, pulling the dirtied burnt skin aside, that he could see, to dig in for the fleshier bits of meat. It was cooked fairly well. Bits of dark juice still seeped in some areas, and it could use some of Master Banner's spices, but Wade was far too hungry to care. The last thing he'd eaten was a few brittle biscuits from the morning before and some stream water. Those healing side-effects he was talking about? Insatiable hunger was another one.

Hmmm… how long has he been asleep? Wade was pretty he hadn't been unconscious for too long - only the previous evening and night, by his guess - which meant the expedition party had probably settled into the next site in his absence. It also meant they'd be finishing up at the Dragon Grounds  _today._

That is, if they made it in time since the attack. Everyone participating in the expedition agreed that the journey could be dangerous and, with their time-limit, there was a definite chance of getting hurt. It was a risk they'd all agreed to take. Captain Roger had to have known Wade was durable and could handle himself until they found him again. He'd probably take the troops out ahead to finish up the expedition before sending out a search party.

Well…if they sent a search party at all. There were some people back in the Kingdom who wouldn't mind if he didn't come back.

But Captain Rogers wouldn't leave him…right? Yes, they had to be off this island within the next three days, but surely the Captain wouldn't leave him here. The risk was great, and they had emphasized not getting separated from the troop, but would they really sail home without him?

The dragon got back to its feet and Wade tensed, scooting back skeptically as it lumbered toward the stream. He squinted, trying to distinguish anything else about his kidnapper. There was definitely something weird about this dragon. Its body was oddly shaped and lumpy around the middle, but he didn't have enough light to make out what exactly it was.

The dragon gulped at the stream, before quickly returning to its spot and curling up in the grass. But it didn't go to sleep. Its head lay on the ground toward Wade, and he didn't need to see its face to know it was staring at him. It tilted its head as if thinking and a few small rays of light fell over one of its eyes.

Wade shifted under its stare, suddenly wishing he had his cowl with him. Animals didn't normally stare at him, but the way this dragon did made his skin crawl. It was as if it was actually sizing him up, not just as a predator, but as an observer. Steve and Bruce have always said that dragons were more intelligent than people made them out to be (they  _had_ to be if they were to take part in a 20-year long war), but Wade didn't think they meant full-on human-like skepticism. It was unsettling and made his skin itch.

Still, as uncomfortable as he was, he tried to maintain eye contact. He was already flown to who knows where and stripped naked, which he still wanted an answer for, so he wasn't going to be bowed by his kidnapper either.

The shadows cast over its head and the bright color of its iris's gave off the impression that its eyes were glowing a ghostly blue, and, quite suddenly, it was hard to look away. The eyes were wide and curious, filled to the brim with questions it couldn't say.

A beat passed and Wade scowled, glaring harder until the dragon conceded and looked away.

Suddenly not hungry, he gingerly pushed the carcass away. The dragon's eyes were back on him in an instant, and it tilted its head as if confused. "I'm - I'm done," he told it. "All full. It was good. Erm… very good. A little raw, but I'm not picky, so… yeah, thanks… I guess."

The dragon blinked once and got back up. This time, Wade refused to move as it approached him. He stared up at it, craning his neck when it was right next to him, and watched it take the remaining carcass in its jaws and chomp down with one powerful bite. His nose pinched at the sound of crunching bones and squishing juices, wondering if that's what his body would sound like if he was eaten alive. He's healed from many horrible injuries, but getting eaten by a dragon? Could he even survive that? Maybe he could, but the whole thing would probably be extremely uncomfortable and agonizing.

The last of the beast went down with a wet gulp and the dragon backed up, laying down once more. Wade stared at the spot the meat had been, and scooted as well, propping his back against the rock. The dragon seemed to have satisfied itself with its early observations and curled its head back to tuck it under its wing. Only a few minutes passed and its body was heaving deeply with sleep.

Now that it wasn't watching his every move, Wade tried to uncover more of its traits, but the sun was taking its dear sweet time waking up. The sky had lightened a little, but he still had hours to go before it was good enough to make his escape.

Punching his rock lightly, as it to soften it up, he settled back against it and crossed his hands over his stomach. He supposed he could leave right now if he wanted to. If he was light enough on his feet, he could sneak through the trees and find a way to the Dragon Grounds before Captain Rogers and the party headed home. There was still a chance Wade could get his dragon too.

But leaving now probably wouldn't be the best idea. It was dark and he didn't know anything more about this terrain since the last time he woke up. He could tempt it, but would likely only get himself lost, and time was of the essence. He couldn't afford the hours, days even, it could take to forge a trail back to the cliffs on his own, especially if he started in the dark. No, he'd have to wait until the sun was up before he attempted a foray.

Just to be safe though, he'd need to leave before the dragon woke.

It wouldn't keep him here, right?

Ugh, he hoped not. It was nice that it treated him to dinner and all, but Wade had an expedition to get back to. Just as soon as the sun was up, he'd go.

He turned on his stomach, mind made up. He'd leave just before dawn, before the dragon woke up, and find the expedition party in time to get his dragon. He closed his eyes, plan still fresh in his mind, as he let his body lull itself to sleep.

Which was surprisingly easier then he thought it'd be.

* * *

**_The Repercussions of War_**

Wade yawned, stretching languidly as he warmed his lulled muscles. There was a knot stuck in his back thanks to the rock, and a family of bugs had a party on his skin last night, but his sleep had been better than he expected it to be. It was a lot comfier than some the inn's he's visited, that's for sure.

Blinking the mustiness from his eyes, he stared up at the sky, which had turned a flowery blue. It was already warm and gold rays of light brightened the green spading leaves of the jungle. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the crisp essence of morning. Wow. Know those mornings that felt like Mother Nature herself was on display? Today was that kind of day. Saints, when was the last time he's woken up like this?

What was this good mood? How foreign and strange. And there were no idiot comrades to spoil it for him either.

Wade froze, eyes widening. He lurched up with a curse. No Francis because there was no expedition party, no expedition party because he was kidnapped, kidnapped because he fell off a cliff. He was supposed to be escaping right now.

Damn it, he slept in.

Jumping to his feet, he whirled around, observing his surroundings. He was right earlier. He  _was_  in a small clearing, bowled in with high spading trees and thick foliage. Inside soft wild grass grew in abundance among straggling wildflowers. Off to his right, a stream sang with cool, crisp mountain water running through its vocals. Judging by the bubbling rush of the water and the subtle tilt of the ground, Wade deduced he was somewhere up high.

But his mind was easily distracted from _that_  and the loveliness of the morning by the dragon slumbering not far from him. It was still curled up tight against itself with its wings wrapped around its body like a leathery cocoon, heaving with sleep. It _was_  red and blue! Wade hadn't just made that up.

Shaking that away though, he glanced behind him where, barely over the tops of the tree, the cliffs loomed. Wherever the dragon had taken him, it was a long way off from where it found him. Which was odd. Master Banner never mentioned dragons kidnapping people.

Okay, now that he was thinking clearly, he had  _kind of_ egged the dragon on. Besides, it did feed him, so he could credit it that. But there was no time to express his "thanks." He needed to go.

Rolling his shoulders to burn the rest of his lethargy away, Wade grabbed his shoe and his knife. He paused when he noticed the small pile of bloodied twigs and branch slivers next to the rock. Huh, he hadn't noticed them earlier.

Now that he thought about it, there were no lumps or bumps in his skin where his body would normally heal over such things, and he was positive he had twigs sticking out of his body after the fall. Wade hesitated, before shaking his head. He'd mull over it later, he needed to get a move on. So, he turned in the cliffs direction and tiptoed to the edge of the clearing, glancing over his shoulder to check on the slumbering beast. Thank the Saints it wasn't stirring. (Not that the Saints have  _ever_ really helped him).

He grinned with triumph when he successfully made it. Okay, now he just needed to keep in this direction, get to the cliffs, either find a trail up or scale the cliffs, and find the expedition party. Should be easy enough.

But before he was free to the shelter of the jungle, a loud breaking yawn filled the silence, followed by the unfurling of wings. He froze, heart pounding. Straining his ears, Wade waited for an angry roar or thundering footsteps. The dragon must've been too sleepy to notice, though, because it was dead quiet.

Maybe it fell back asleep?

He turned and his heart instantly spiked. The dragon was staring at him. Its large eyes watched him, head tilting slightly as it waiting for his next move. Wade sucked in a breath, expecting it to charge.

But it didn't.

For several minutes they were locked in each other's gazes. The dragon tilted its head to the other side and blinked at him, eyes roaming quickly over his tensed stance. Then the spell broke. It grinned that shit-eating grin again and uncurled itself from the ground.

Ignoring Wade, it turned and lumbered across the soft grass, feet squishing through the mud of the bank as it got to the stream. Wade might've been offended with its askew behavior if not for the way his breath caught in his throat and his jaw dropped.

No wonder the dragon looked so messed up last night. It had an extra set of fucking arms.

It had the same front arms and back legs that most other dragons did, but nestled between the two sets of joints, placed slightly higher, was an extra pair of arms that padded lightly along the muddy flooring. When it stopped by the stream, each pair of arms found a hold in the dirt as it bent and drank its fill. Wade's eye's followed the graceful motion of the three sets of limbs, trying to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

The knights were supposed to learn more about dragon cultures after their journey to the Dragon Grounds so they could better understand their dragons. Master Banner said that not all dragon's species would be the same and that a lot of them had different distinguishing qualities, but Wade had never heard of a dragon with extra arms. There were all sorts of dragon species in the Dragon Guard, jungle breeds, ice breeds, water breeds, and yet, this was so new and foreign it left his mind reeling.

As warping as it was, it was also kind of amazing. Each limb had a pristine sense of where it was going. Its movements were chaotic and mind-tripping, but fluid and graceful at the same time. It was enthralling to watch.

Unaware of his staring, the dragon stopped drinking and leaned closer to the water, as if inspecting something. Intrigued, Wade dropped his shoe and hunched down, hand on his chin thoughtfully. It looked like it was examining its face, tilting its scaled head from side to side to look at it from all angles.

Wade rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Pretentious much."

But then, to his astonishment, the dragon bent down and scooped water into its front hands and splashed it up on its face. Claws and scales scratched and clicked against each other as the dragon scrubbed its muzzle, the sound rough and grating from where Wade was crouched.

He was gaping again. The thing hadn't been admiring itself, it was  _washing_. But that was something that  _people_  normally did. Sure animals bathed themselves, but the way this dragon did it with such humane movements.

"What are you?" he muttered.

The dragon turned again, as if hearing him. Instead of grinning at him though, it huffed, shoulders slumping. Its eyes cut down into a glare and it snorted haughtily at him, and lumbered back across the marsh ground.

Wade quirked an eyebrow, surprised with its sudden caprice, "Hey,  _you_  were the one who brought  _me_  here, remember?"

The dragon snorted again but kept its back to him. Wade huffed and stood back up. Whatever, he had to get a move on. As strange was this dragon was, it wasn't his priority. He stepped farther into the trees, risking another glance through the branches.

The dragon was shaking its body now, elongated wings flapping slightly as it knocked grass from its scales. When the shaking couldn't lose the more stubborn blades, it leaned back on its hind legs and used both sets of arms to scrape off the remaining grass and mud. Then, when it completed that, it stretched its long, thick neck, humming a gruntled sound deep inside its chest.

For a moment, Wade was tempted to stay. This was such an odd dragon. Maybe it was a species Master Banner didn't know of. Damn, wouldn't it be nice to have found a dragon that not even a Master as renowned as Bruce Banner did? That'd be a thorn in Francis's ass too, for sure. Maybe Wade could stay a few minutes...

Wait… what was he doing? He couldn't stay. Captain Rogers was probably packing up for the Dragon Grounds at this very moment. Wade needed to go if he planned on catching up to them.

Eyes shifting back and forth from the dragon, he inched toward the trees. Yet, a small irritating part of him hoped the dragon would notice.

But it was as if he no longer existed. The sassy —yet caring— attention it had for him earlier was replaced by a cold, disassociated demeanor that just rubbed him the wrong way. It was as if he was already gone.

Despite the smidgeon of rationality he still possessed, Wade found himself shouting, "Farewell!" in a tone that was so unnaturally loud it broke the tame resonance of the quiet clearing. The dragon, however, didn't even look up from where it was stretching its legs. Scowling, Wade repeated, louder this time, " _FAREWELL NOW!"_

The dragon stopped this time, inhaling a deep, brusque sigh, and rolled its head to the side to glare at him. But without so much as a laugh or grunt, it turned away just as quickly and continued whatever sacred morning routine it established for itself. The way it looked at him, as if Wade was nothing but an irritating blade of grass in its scales.

"Fine," he griped. "Thanks for the dinner, I'll get you a rabbit next time." And with that, he stomped back into the trees.

 _Still,_ quite unable to help himself, Wade glanced over his shoulder  _one_ more to see the dragon's reaction. But as soon as he turned his head, his feet found a dipping slant in the ground and suddenly he was tumbling. And rolling and smacking. Hitting into plants, rocks, and thick roots before finally landing in, what appeared to be, a ditch _. Damn a hill to hell_ , he forgot he was up somewhere high.

He groaned throatily, pain pulsing from his shoulder in livid waves. He lifted his head, peering at the crude branch protruding through his shoulder, and groaned again, letting his head loll back. A few long seconds passed before the dragon's head poked through the tree's above him, peeking down from the top of the hill. It snorted at him, looking stuck between being irritated and amused.

Wade's nose wrinkled in disdain. "Someone could've  _mentioned_  there was a drop there," he snapped.

The dragon's shoulders rolled in a shrug, which Wade was convinced was an aberration of normal dragon behavior. Still, it started down the hill, keeping its stability against the steep sides by using its sets of arms to find holds on plants, trees, and rocks. Within minutes, the dragon was in the ditch too, completely unharmed, as it circled Wade observantly, its low tail sweeping serpentine trails in the dirt. A few grains swept upward into his face in a punishment of sorts.

Wade spit sand out of his mouth and shook the dirt from his bald head, which he instantly regretted when the branch jerked. The dragon did stop, but only to crouch next to him, eyes roaming over the branch. It got lower to look under him, where the branch protruded from the dirt. Its eyes mellowed, troubled, and it rose back to its full height, shifting uncomfortably its stance. It glanced back up the hill as if tempted to leave, but looked back at Wade with woeful eyes.

"I'll be fine," Wade groaned, poking at the stick. "Go back up on your hill. I don't care." The dragon didn't budge. He must've said something right, as it huffed and bent down to examine the branch again. Tentatively, one of its claws reached out, and hesitated. Changing its mind, the large hand pinned Wade's legs to the ground, while its partner held his body steady.

Wade's eyes widened, praying it wasn't about to just put him out of his misery. "Wait."

The dragon leaned it's head down, mouth opening toward his throat.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Wade shouted, squirming under the hand. "Hold up, I'm not breakfast!" His shoulder all but begged him to stop, but there was no way he was allowing himself to be feasted on.

Above him, the dragon snarled loudly, the most aggressive it's been to him since they've met, and Wade stilled instantly, hardly able to breathe as the dragon leaned down again. Only, instead of ripping his throat out as expected, it gingerly took the branch in its mouth, and with its other set of hands holding Wade's shoulder steady, it snapped it heads sideways and broke the top off.

Wade yelped, then groaned.

The dragon cocked its head, somewhat apologetically. Spitting the branch top off, its claws gently curled around him middle and pulled him up. WIth its front arms holding him and its middle arms keeping the branch down, Wade was slowly lifted off the branch. His eyes watered, and he couldn't hold back the few grunts of pain as the rough bark scraped and splintered through his shoulder, before finally popping out the other end.

When it was over, Wade could breathe again.

He slumped, hand shooting up to hold his shoulder. He took in several deep breaths to adapt to the pain, before glancing up at the dragon. "I guess that's another one I owe you, huh?"

It snorted in agreement. The middle arms wrapped around him tighter, holding him up off the ground body as it started up the hill again. Its gait wasn't as graceful this time though, now that it had to rely on its front arms and legs for sole stability.

Despite the shifting ache in his shoulder, Wade found more interest at the dragons underbelly scales. They were far softer than the outer scales and, given that he was so close, incredibly warm. If he put his ear close enough, he could almost hear the booming beat of a heart, like a roll of thunder in its chest.

It was no wonder dragons fought so feverishly to protect their underbellies. It was so soft Wade was sure he could cause some serious damage with his swords. And, oddly enough, the dragon smelled like lavender. Huh, who knew?

He strained his neck to see the dragon's face, "Hey, Ms. Dragon," he paused, "Wait...are you a Ms?" Wade squirmed to look between its legs. The dragon immediately hissed at him, one of its claws digging into his sides, and he yelped, unable to get away from the pinch.

"Okay, okay." he conceded, "You're shy.  _Geez_. I'm sorry." The claw withdrew and Wade rubbed it sourly. "Okay,  _Dragon_ , look I appreciate all the help, I really do, but I can take it from here. Just let me down and I can go on my merry way."

The dragon's progress didn't stop.

"You can let me go now."

But it was back to ignoring him. Wade tried to appease its nature a little more, before giving up and falling back its grip. When they made it back up to the clearing, the dragon lumbered through the grass and promptly, without reason, dropped Wade in the stream. He jerked up as the water rolled over his wound, making it sting, and his senses went on overdrive from the onslaught of cold.

" _What the hell_?" Wade cursed, voice shrill and high as he clumsily got to his feet, tottering out of the stream. "Okay, maybe you were mad about the Mr or Ms thing, but you didn't need to pull a trick like that!" The dragon turned its long neck at him, and with its nose, pushed him back to the water. Wade stumbled but managed to stay clear of the frigid mountain stream.

"Hey,  _hey_ ," he pushed the nose away. "I don't need to bathe! Go away!" The dragon snapped at his pushing hand and with more strength, forced him into the water. When Wade tried to get out again, it stopped his attempt. Finally, after several failed tries, he threw up his hands. "Fine, whatever! You win!" He plopped back down in the water and held his bleeding arm, glaring spitefully at the dragon. The dragon glared back with equal irritation, but set its attention to the stream banks and began pulling up rocks.

It plopped them in the steam, on either side of Wade. When there were few rocks to use, it shot him a warning look, and lumbered around the clearing for more, returning only to plop them in the water, until a wall of rocks appeared on either side of him.

 _It's building a dam_ , he realized.

Once satisfied with its hasty work, the dragon bent down to the water held in around Wade, and breathed on it. A rumble reverberated through its chest and long vines of steam curled from its mouth. It breathed over the water near Wade, warming the lazy current. Wade's body tingled from the sudden temperature change, but it was welcome to the cold chill that clung to his limbs. The dragon stopped to inhale, then breathed on the water again. And repeated.

When Wade didn't do whatever it intended, it lifted its head and snarled.

His face pinched back into a scowl and he crossed his arms defensively, "What? I don't speak dragon."

The dragon's head tilted to the side, as if the thought just occurred to it, before breathing deeply and nudging at Wade's bleeding shoulder with its nose, then back at the water. It looked at him expectantly.

Wade glanced at his wound, then back at the colding water.

"Ohhh." It clicked. "You want me to wash my shoulder."

The dragon jerked its head, a simple nod, and went back to warming the water. This time, Wade carefully took off his shirt (blood stained and gross) and left it folded on the bank. Kneeling in the water, he cupped it into his uninjured hand.

"You know," he said, gently scrubbing around the wound, which was basically already healed. "This water is hardly sanitary." The dragon lifted its head to glare at him, lashing its tail out so it whacked him in the head. " _What_? I'm just saying it's probably really gross. I mean, who knows what kind of things are in here. You could've pissed in it for all I know."

With a heated huff, the dragon jerked its head up and sourly turned away, leaving Wade to the rapidly cooling water. It stomped back in the grass, right into the place it had slept and plopped down, it's back to Wade.

Wade stepped out of the water, wet trousers fusing to his skin that sending cold chills up his arms. His shoulder was good as new, but the warm water had definitely helped relax the muscles. He put his shirt back on with moderately jerky movement and walked to the dragon. He circled its massive body with an impressed nod. It was a long dragon, not big or stocky like Steve's, but more lithe and serpentine in its arched neck and curved tail. Its limbs were long and agile too, all 6 of them, but beneath the scales, Wade could still see powerful muscles coiled.

The dragon's base color was a bright carmine red that darkened to blue toward the underbelly scales. Dark blue, almost black, rings of color grew up along the tail, stopping halfway up. Similar dark markings danced along the curves and ridges of its muscled back and continued to grow slightly up the base of its wings before fading. The wings themselves were long, probably able to hide its entire body if it tried, and connected from the shoulders to its hind legs. The bony fingers of the wings grew long, while the leathery skin between them was folded loosely against its body. The wings were a bright red too, that darkened and faded into blue. Wade's eyes climbed the ridges of the slim spikes up its neck, where two frills lay folded back against the side of its head. When he got close enough, he noticed a dark circlet of colored scales arching just above its eyes, before the dragon spotted him and bitterly turned away.

"Aw, come on, don't tell me I hurt your feelings," Wade said, trying to meet its eyes. The dragon refused and swung its tail, knocking Wade's legs out from under him. He hissed when his shoulder hit the ground, but blinked in surprise when it was instantly leaning over him, sniffing frantically over his hurt shoulder.

Wade chuckled, "Awwww, you  _do_  care."

The dragon paused, then its eyes hardened again and it resumed its cold demeanor.

Wade sat up, grinning at its stubbornly raised head. "Did I upset you?"

It turned its head again as if to further imply that it wasn't going to acknowledge him. Wade rose to his feet and tried to face it again. And again, the dragon refused to look at him. Finally, Wade sighed in elongation and sat directly in front of it. The dragon sniffed disdainfully but, if its pride was anything to go by, it wasn't going to lay its head down.

Wade dropped his own head in his hands and waited. "Okay," he said after a long stretch of silence. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. You really are a great dragon, and I thank you for taking care of me."

The dragon blew out a hot breath and glanced at him through the corner of its eyes. For a minute it remained like that before all the hot air blew out. The dragon peered down at him if to just verify that he was sincere. And Wade was. Sure he could be a bit… much, but the dragon really had helped him, a lot actually, and he could be courteous when he wanted to be. Besides, he was trained under the honorable codes of knighthood. Sure he hadn't known that the code extended to dragons, but it is what it is.

Seemingly satisfied, the dragon relaxed and let its head drop. It curled up on the ground, sniffing at Wade with a curt nod.

Wade grinned cheekily. "See, I'm not so bad."

It snorted in obvious disagreement, but Wade noticed that its toothy smile was back.

"You know," he continued unceremoniously, picking up a small twig nearby to dig trenches in the dirt. "You remind me of a friend of mine. Her name is Blind Al. She's old and sassy, but she's got a lot of spunk. You're pretty sassy too, you know. I'm not sure if that kind of things comes with age though. How old are you?" Wade smirked. "I mean, you don't look a day over...63? 89?"

The dragon snorted, though not in an offended way. If Wade didn't know any better, he'd say it was almost amused. So, he kept talking. An amused dragon was better than an irritated one.

"Yeah, but Blind Al is probably off eating grass somewhere. I bet she doesn't even realize I'm gone. Not that I care. Sometimes I think she has a faulty memory too. She's so old, I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one to birth all the palfrey's in the stable - oh, uh, she's a horse by the way. Not human. That'd be...that'd be weird. Anyway, me and her have this weird relationship. I give her oats if she kicks Francis - don't worry, Francis deserves it anyway. Believe me, if anyone deserves to be fried and eaten by a dragon, it is him. You know, in case if ever get the taste for douchebags. Anyway..." He went on like that, talking about anything that crossed his mind. He told the dragon all about their journey to Batl'Ar, the hammocks they slept on while in the ship, about Ajax and his soft-headed goons. He even discussed the dragon itself, going as far as coming up with a name for it. "You look a lot like a spider - hey, hear me out. I mean, with all your long legs and the way you walk, you do look like a spider. All creepy crawly and gross. Come on, admit it. You're a little Spidey, aren'tcha? ...Know what, I'm sick of thinking of you as 'the dragon'. So, hello Spidey, I'm Wade- ow! Hey, no tail hitting. I thought we were over that."

He went on talking so much, it was well up to noon before he realized how late it was getting. He paused when the call of nature found him, and he stumbled off into the trees to answer that call. As he came back later, retying the leather band keeping his pants up, the clearing was empty.

"Uh...Spidey?" He peered through the trees. "Spidey? Are you there?" He didn't get a snort nor grunt of acknowledgment. Spidey was gone.

Wade's shoulders slumped, disappointed. But of course, it had to leave. It probably had important, dragonly matters to attend to. He squinted up at the sky. Besides, he  _had_  wasted precious hours of the morning talking to Spidey, and the sun had climbed a considerable distance since then. There was no doubt the expedition party had started for the Dragon Grounds.

"And your shit luck strikes again," Wade sighed. "Of course it did." He tried peering over the line of trees to make out the cliffs in the distance. Maybe he could follow their tracks back to the settlement. Wade was hardly any good at keeping an eye out for dragon nests though, and he didn't quite fancy the idea of becoming a meal.

He stopped in the middle of the clearing, where the grass was still crushed from the heavyweight of the dragon. "How am I supposed to get back?" he snapped aloud. Wade was fairly sure he could find his way back when he got to the trail from the party, but there were still miles of forest between him and the cliffs. Forests that he had never been in and hadn't a clue of which way to go without getting lost.

But he couldn't stay here either. Spidey was nice enough, but that was a bit of rare luck on his part. If it had been any other aggressive dragon, Wade would already be coming out the bad end of a dragon's behind. He couldn't stay here, he was bound to attract the attention of a predator willing to eat him.

"Come on, Wilson, you fucker," Wade grumbled, stomping toward the clearing edge. "You've gotten through worst situations before." Maybe if he went straight toward the cliffs and climbed a few trees on the way, he could stick to a straight line to where he fell. Of course, he couldn't tell exactly where he had fallen, but there was still a chance he could pick up the horse tracks on any part of the cliffs.

With his plan in mind, Wade took his first step out of the clearing when a crack got his attention. Behind him, Spidey was walking back into the clearing, something fleshy hanging from its jaws. Wade found his body stopping as something akin to joy filled his chest. Spidey hadn't left him after all!

Spidey stopped to look around the clearing before its eyes settled on Wade. It growled, not unkindly, and dropped its kill on the dirt, looking back at him expectantly. Wade turned to the thick forestry ahead of him. Well, the party couldn't have made it to the Dragon Grounds yet, so why rush? He spun on his heels and walked back.

Spidey smiled proudly at the wild beast it had gotten, the skin still steaming from where it had scorched it. Wade sat cross-legged in front of the meat, taking out one of his concealed knives to peel away the flaking black skin. He glanced up at Spidey's inquisitive eyes, "I'm not much a skin kind of person," was his excuse as he cut a piece of meat out. But before he ate it, he paused. "Uh… I can eat this, right? Like, you're not going to get mad and eat me?"

Wade could've sworn Spidey rolled its eyes. But it pushed the meat slightly toward Wade as an answer, and with a grin, Wade stuffed his cut slice into his mouth. Could still use some of Master Banner's herb seasonings, but it was still good. Spidey waited patiently for Wade to finish eating, and when he had his fill, it gulped up the remains, licking its lips with a hum. Wade found himself observing it again.

Spidey wasn't black-scaled, or stocky with muscle, or even really big - in fact, it was a pretty small dragon considering how big they could get. But it wasn't bad either. Spidey was charming in its own sassy, temperamental sort of way, and a hell of a lot nicer than Mrs. Angryscales back on the cliffs. All in all, it wasn't a bad dragon. But, Wade still needed to go.

He got to his feet, drawing the spidery-dragon's attention.

"Well," Wade said, rubbing his hands on his pants. "I - uh, better get going. My expedition party will probably made it to the Dragon Grounds soon, so I've uh, got to go." Guilt washed up in Wade's stomach when Spidey's eyes dropped in disappointment. "But hey," he added quickly, "thanks for the dinner. Both of them. And for, you knowing, helping me get better. Don't know why you did, but thanks. If you ever need anything, just fly on over to the Stark Kingdom and I'll buy you a boar or something." The silence stretched between them. Wade swung his arms awkwardly, and clasped them over his stomach, rolling on the balls of his feet. "So... _yeah_ , I should get going."

Spidey snorted a small chuckle but got to its feet too. Wade had to crane his neck a little to see its face, and when he did, it hummed at him softly. He smiled, and for the first time, they willingly locked eyes. Spidey's eyes were reptilian and an intense shade blue, dark around the edges that lightened toward the center. Only, rather than anger or blood-lust, its eyes were bright and full of humor, and Wade had a distinct feeling this dragon was something really special. Spidey stared back at him, Wade wondered what it was seeing.

Suddenly, like a crack of lightning, the air between them snapped. Wade's feet rooted to the ground, every part of him freezing as something stirred in his chest. Unaccounted energy that bubbled and pushed to the surface of his soul, lashing out and hooking its claws deep into his heart and ribs and head, stretching outward. It was an ethereal sensation, and for just a moment, Wade was looking down at himself, gaze hooked into the friendly browns of his own eyes. Despite the fear and bewilderment he felt inside, his face was lax and calm, strong-looking but full of mischief and adventure. It took a second before Wade realized he wasn't just staring at himself, but he was staring at himself through the eyes of the dragon - through Spidey's eyes. And through the writhing strands of energy latching them, Wade could sense the same realization from Spidey too.

He could feel the dragons own energy pulsing to the powerful beat of its heart. Wade felt both of their pulled energy collide, and erupt into dozens of serpentine strands. Strands intermingled and wove together, tightening and binding, and bonding. It wove so deep, he could feel it in the far reaches of his soul. He could feel its power riding under his skin. He could even feel it tingle on his tongue. The energy snapped into place, like a piece clicking into its rightful spot, sending another tingle of energy that rattled Wade's bones. As soon as it snapped, Wade blinked and found himself back in his own body.

He gasped, teetering back, hand slapping against his chest to grasp for the bond he could still feel hooked inside him. His hands came up empty and he was left clutching the bare material of his shirt. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy, he looked back up at Spidey who was looking just as stunned as he felt.

"What..." Wade started, unable to bring his thoughts into motion, but it was enough to snap the dragon from its daze.

Spidey looked at him and stumbled back, shrinking away from Wade as if he were a threat. The grace of its limbs was lost as it tripped and fell several times in its haste to put a distance between them.

Even with their growing distance, one look into Spidey's eyes and Wade knew it wasn't enough. Panicked, the dragon took a running start across the clearing, bent its powerful legs, and shot up in the sky. It flapped its wings with the desperation of a hunted creature, and with several beats, it had fled over the tops of the trees. Wade was left alone in the clearing, staring at the spot in the sky where the dragon had been moments before.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spidey! Get back here! What the heck, dude? LOL 
> 
> WHOO! And chapter two is finished! Whoop-de-doo-da! What'd you think? Why do you think Spidey flew off like that? Allow me to pick your brains, my pretties! *cackles*
> 
> Thanks for reading! See ya next chapter! ;)


	3. The Newly Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What the hell?" he pulled out the worn leather-bound pages of a book. Wade brought it his face, twisting it from side to side, and read the title "Alchemy Volume 5." The font was written in the same curvy script that Banner had in his books. He opened it to the first page, where scribed on the inside cover were the words: Property of P. Parker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important AN at the bottom, please read!

 

Given that he was abandoned in a clearing, in the middle of a jungle that he didn't know, with nothing but a petty knife and a single shoe, Wade could credit himself that he hadn't completely lost it yet.

Sure, the sting of rejection hurt - it was a feeling he's familiarized himself with many times now - but at least he wasn't going into a blind rage this time. Honestly, he didn't think he could even if he wanted to, not with the sheer weight of his thoughts pressing down on his mind.

It took him a while before he could stop staring at the flattened spot in the grass, and when he did, he paced the perimeter of the lonely clearing, running a hand over his bald head, while scrunching his other fist in an attempt not to punch the nearest tree. Which didn't work, because he  _did_ punch a tree, and it hurt like hell.

Still pacing, he flexed his bloodied knuckles as the bones mended. His fingers twitched and tightened with a yearning sense to hold something thick, solid, and made of fine steel. Not to so much as kill something, though that would probably relieve some of his pent up stress, but just for the simple pretense of holding something in his hand. Something heavy that could ground his mind to his body so it didn't fly into the sun and melt in a blubbering mess.

"Okay, okay," he muttered and pulled to a halt, arms akimbo and eyes on the ground. "Okay Wilson, you fall from the sky, get kidnapped by a dragon, eat with the dragon, talk with the dragon...bond with the dragon?" He rattled his head, "No, no, no - this can't...when...how..." This wasn't supposed to happen. Captain Rogers said that dragons could only bond if they WANTED to, and all the dragons that agreed to bond would be at the Dragon Grounds, and ONLY at the Dragon Grounds.

Sure, the story of the Captain and Bucky's unexpected bond was legendary, but it was an extremely rare tale. A bond that wasn't initiated by either of them was unnatural...unless Spidey meant to bond.

Wade's shoulders slumped. That was unlikely. Spidey looked just as surprised as he did, and the dragon definitely didn't act like the ephemeral, soul-switching mumbo-jumbo was intentional. In fact, the fucking  _dragon_  fucking flew away! That didn't happen when a dragon bonded...did it?

Maybe it was some ritual Master Banner forgot to mention. Maybe it was an initiation joke at his expense. " _Ah-ha got ya! Of course, I was going to come back for you. Come on, we're bonded now,_ " and yet, Spidey had yet to appear.

"This is a really bad joke," Wade muttered sourly, picking up his pace again. What the hell kind of bond was that anyway? Was it supposed to feel like that? The piercing hook in his chest had faded since Spidey left, but when Wade concentrated, he could still sense it purged deep into his body. If he REALLY concentrated, he could sense the flow of two energies riding alongside each other, twisting and weaving and pulsing in a heartbeat rhythm.

But he didn't try to focus on that. Just thinking about the fresh bond broke the dam holding up the thoughts and emotions he was trying to keep pent in. Even the slightest stick out of place brought him close to a flood.

This couldn't be natural. A bond that felt so surreal, so ingrained, so...right. Wade's pacing halted and his hand reached up as if to graze the energy. It was if there was a whole other part to him that he was just finding out. Like waking up one day and realizing he had two hearts instead of one. A missing chunk had been put back without him ever realizing it was gone. It was...a nice feeling if he were being honest. There was something comforting about it.

"But the dragon fucking flew away!" he roared, shouting at the sky. "I mean, it's not like we were  _both_ freaked out or anything."

Seething and flushed, Wade stomped through the grass again. He paced an angry circle into the grass before his heated thoughts finally got to him, and he stopped by the stream, bending over to wash his face with its cool waters. Instead of regaining his composure though, he stared down at the ghastly human reflection mirroring him with a gritting glower. Gnarled scars disfigured his face, he had no hair, sunken eye sockets, and red irritated eyes. It was no wonder the dragon flew away.  _Of course_ , it did. What creature in its right mind would want to be bond with the likes of him anyway?

His fists clenched again, trembling against the dirt, as the horrid reflection glared at him. With a roar, he lunged forward to strangle the neck of the monstrosity bobbing at the water's surface. He didn't get a neck, but it was no less satisfying when the water was disrupted and the monster was lost in a cascade of ripples. But his petty satisfaction went ashen and bitter when the image resettled. Wade turned to the side, unable to stare at himself anymore, when he noticed something hiding in the grass.

Eyes narrowing, he peered closer to a rock near the bank.

"What the hell?" he pulled out the worn leather-bound pages of a book. Wade brought it his face, twisting it from side to side, and read the title "Alchemy Volume 5." The font was written in the same curvy script that Banner had in his books. The slender words were thin and hard to read as if a flower had written them. "What is this doing all the way out here?"

He thoughts slipped back to Spidey's intelligent eyes. "There's no way it could be...or could it?" Wade stood up, turning the book over in his hand. There wasn't a chance that Spidey was reading this, right?

Logically, there was no other real explanation that would clarify why a book would be this far out in the middle of nowhere. ' _Maybe a traveler dropped it while fleeing a dragon...'_ he wondered. But that didn't make any sense. Batl'Ar didn't get travelers,  _especially_ this far up in the mountains. And not to be rude, but the locals here didn't look like the reading type.

But was it  _actually_ possible that Spidey had been reading an Alchemy book? Volume 5, no less. He opened it to the first page, where scribed on the inside cover were the words:  **Property of P. Parker** ,s written in several languages. Kind of overkill, but that was smart people for you. Always so paranoid.

"Well, Parker," Wade drawled, snapping the book shut. "Looks like someone got the rotten end of a dragon's attitude," the guy was probably off dying in a ditch somewhere. That, or he was severely confused about where Volume 5 of his book collection had gone. "So, Spidey doesn't just take people, he takes books too." he mused, nodding slowly. "Good to know. See, I'm learning about my dragon already."

 _Spidey can't be your dragon if he's not here,_ his thoughts reminded him and his mood instantly turned waspish. Wade lurched to his feet and was back to pacing, alternating his attention between the book and sky, waiting for Spidey to come back so he could at least offer it as some sort of peace-treaty between them.

IF Spidey accepted the book at all. Something told Wade that it would. The bond, maybe?

But no dragon came to Wade's rescue this time. By the time the sun was passing noon, Wade had given up.

"Know what?  _Fine_!" he stormed to the edge of the clearing, "I don't need a stupid dragon anyway! I can be on the guard with or without one." It's not like people always got a dragon. Quite a few went home without one actually. Yeah, it was disappointing and confidence crushing and completely unfair that the dragon fucking flew away without him, but who cares? Wade didn't care. He didn't care in the  _slightest._

And because he didn't care, he was keeping the book. No shitty dragon deserved volume 5! If it wanted it back so much, I'd have to find him. Clutching his new prize, Wade carefully made his way down the steep hillside, still grumbling bitterly as he went. He made it to the bottom and headed in the direction that he hoped were the cliffs. If not, well, it's not like he'd be welcomed back into the expedition party with open arms.

He made his way along the jungle floor, stomping past brush and plants without the discretion of being spotted by a feral dragon. If it wanted to eat him, then fine, Wade was itching to fight something, with or without his weapons. If it ended with him fatally injured and unconscious for hours on end, then who was he to stop it?

He figured, with a bit of luck and time, he could find a way out of the jungles. He's been in worse situations before, he could handle this.

But as he walked, his thoughts ran back to the hillside clearing. Was it possible Spidey wanted to bond with him...unintentionally? Wade was told he could be charming, but that was one time, and it was from a blind girl in a brothel house who hadn't even touched him yet. So,  _maybe_ it was possible. The only problem he had with that was if the dragon  _had_  wanted to bond, why did it fly away? It just left him there! If that didn't scream rejection, then Wade was as blind as Blind Al.

Of course,  _his_  dragon would reject him, because even dragons had standards.

But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

The bond flared, spreading an ache in his chest that mingled nicely with his pained thoughts, as if straining under his negativity. For a moment, Wade thought he felt a tug from his chest, right before turning a bend, and the feeling vanished. Perhaps, in time, the bond would fade too. If the bond wasn't mutually consented by both participants, then it couldn't be fully forged.

 _Great_ , now he was quoting Master Banner. Wade needed to get out of his own head before he obtained a sudden interest in what type of soil would be best for a corn plant. So, he abandoned his thoughts to a locked chest at the bottom of his churning head and let his legs carry him in any direction. If he wasn't feeling like a useless pile of muck, he might've had the integrity to find out where he was even headed.

When, to his utter surprise, he realized didn't need to. By the time the sun was sinking below the tree's, the cliffside was rising through the thick canopy of trees. Huh, it was amazing how time flew when it was spent simmering in anger.

"Phew," he wiped his forehead, "Thought for sure I was going the wrong way," he swept aside a long hanging branch and morphed his walk into a sprint. By the time he made it to the base of the cliffs, the sun had nearly vanished behind the trees. There wasn't going to be enough moonlight to sustain a climb of that height. He was going to have to wait for morning...again.

Wade slowed to scout a place of shelter for the night. After several, several minutes of fruitless searching, he spotted gold. A gaping cave appeared at the base of the cliff, partially hidden at an angle, with a wide, yawning entrance. A giant boulder, roughly the same size as the mouth of the cave, was propped nearby. Wade's grin fell as he got closer, excitement making way for suspicion.

Hesitantly, he stopped by the front of it. The entrance was black and cold looking, but with the bit of light he had left, he could tell it turned a bend a bit ways down. Humming, thoughtfully, he squat, running his fingers over the grooves by the cave mouth. He followed them over to the boulder, where it rested. Something had moved it - something strong - and definitely more than once. Again, Wade's fingers itched for the weight of his swords. Instead, he strained his ears to pick up any noise, but there was none. In fact, it was ominously quiet.

"Nope, I may be idle-brained, but I'm not  _that_ idle-brained," he turned on his heel and walked away. He'd just find a new place, one that didn't reek with darkness and imminent-death.

But as soon as his back was turned, the bond stretched, digging deeper inside him, and pulled him roughly back toward the cave. Wade gasped and stumbled, clutching the spot in his chest where it resided. When he didn't move, it pulled harder, as it determined to walk him to his death. "Dammit," Wade cursed, rubbing the spot. "Okay, okay, I get it, but  _damn_ ," wincing he took an obedient step toward the cave, which instantly palliated its urgings.

Wade stopped. Were bonds supposed to do this too? Where was it taking him? What could possibly...

He halted, realizing quite suddenly that the cave mouth would be able to fit the girth of a good-sized dragon. Almost timidly, a small thought crept to the edges of his mind. Cautiously, he walked back to the cave opening, this time searching for specific flaws in the dirt. And there they were. Now that he was looking, he could see the small, claw-like trenches in the soil. He looked at the boulder. A dragon could probably move that.

His heart stopped and the bond seemed to tingle pleasantly as realization began to dawn.

"Spidey?" it was barely above a whisper, but it felt loud in his ears.

Wade wanted to blame his desire to go in the cave on the bond, but it seemed to have sated its aggression. Which scared him, because that meant it was his own actions that had him taking a step inside. He paused for half a second, glared spitefully into the darkness, and purged inside without so much of a glance to the fading sun. There were more trenches in the dirt, and Wade felt his throat tighten in anger. So this was where the little weasel was hiding! It had left him alone in a dirty clearing to pout in its own personal cave? What the fuck.

The farther in he journeyed, the brighter it got. Wade turned the bend, words already building in his throat, only to freeze. The cave opened out into a wide cavern. Inside, rather than the mangled pile of bones and corpses he would expect in any decent dragon cave, bookcases lined the walls, and long tables stretched through the room - each one brimming with books, papers, quills, and inkwells. The hard rock floor was softened with animal skinned rugs that Wade's could've found in marketplaces. Another table was pushed farther in the corner than the rest and had a few clay bowls and a pitcher abandoned on top, where nearby, an underground stream trickled into an open basin. In the middle of the room, a sturdy brazier was built, with a gentle warming fire already dancing in the hearth. It was warm enough to drive the small, night-time tingles from Wade's toes.

Gaping, he stepped closer. Within the clutter of books, tables, and fire, there was not a blue and red scaled dragon to be seen. He paused his gaping to look left and right, peering into the shadowy corners of the room, but there was nothing. In another corner, he spotted a comfy looking bed of animal skin blankets.

So, apparently, Wade's bond was off the fritz and had led him to a hunting caveman's' home. On Batl'Ar, of all places. The locals were supposed to be the only ones living on the island.

It didn't look like anyone was actually home though. Wade tip-toed farther in the room, peering curiously at the trinkets around him. It was what he imagined Master Banner's room would look like, full to the brim with contents of knowledge and discovery. He picked up a small vial with crushed plants inside. On the other table, lavender flowers were drying in a tied bundle.

Wade glanced over the scattered papers, which were scribed with observations and formulas. The writing was flowery and thin, graceful even. The writing of someone well educated, so at least it wasn't a dim-witted hunting caveman.

He picked up one paper to squint closer to the lithe writing, accidentally brushing several others off as he did. Cursing, Wade hurried to pick them all back up, chasing their floating forms across the floor, when he noticed another tunnel off to the side.

"Huh," he picked up the last paper and slapped it down on the table, peering into the new tunnel with interest. Hesitantly, he glanced toward the exit of the cave. Really, he should leave. It was impolite to sneak into another person's...cave-house? Especially while they weren't home.

But, then again, Wade was hardly ever a polite person. Besides, he'd always been a curious creature at heart. Shooting the exit a crooked grin, he strode toward the new tunnel. The farther he got, the louder the sound of the trickling of water became. Wade followed it through the darkness until the tunnel widened into another room. This one was smaller than the last and brightened with several lit candles placed abundantly around the chamber. It was steamy in there, like someone had been boiling water, and he was taunted with the fleeting image of an old crone cackling over a burning cauldron.

But beneath the hinted warmth of the candles and steam, Wade could also feel the vaporious chill of mountain water. Protruding from the wall, a wide, circular tub-like structure had been carved from the rock, nearly full of water that rippled under the small stream rushing from an opening in the wall. A lazy splash came from within, and that's when Wade noticed the person lounging inside. Through the flickering candles he spotted a sodden patch of brown hair, a slender neck, and the upper body muscles of, what appeared to be, a man.

Wade's heart sputtered to a stop. Okay,  _definitely_  not the fucker he was looking for. His bitter anger and curiosity fizzled out and, wide-eyed, he mutely tip-toed backward toward the tunnel. They would never know he was there. But, as he slowly turned, his elbow bumped a candle and it flickered, sending dancing shadows across the room that made him wince. The man in the tub straightened, sitting up in the tub, and Wade caught a red glint on his shoulder.

He paused and slowly turned back toward the man. Squinting, he leaned forward, trying to decipher what he was seeing. If he didn't know any better, and every inch of his skin was telling him he did, he would almost say that those kinda looked a teensy bit like scales. Red scales, to be precise.

The bond tingled in agreement.

Finding no threats, the man leaned back against the tub, tipping his head back with a sigh, not enough to see Wade, but enough to reveal his neck. Wade spotted twinkling blue scales peppering his jaw.

Red and blue scales.

It was impossible. There was no way that could be...

The man sat up with another, longer, sigh, this one more troubled, and to Wade's horror, started rising from the tub. He stumbled back, desperate to hold onto his clunky steps as he tottered away. But it was too late. The man turned, rising fully out of the water, and looked up, meeting Wade's eyes.

That was when Wade noticed that the man was naked.  _Really_ naked.

A beat passed.

" _WHAT THE FUCK?"_ the man shouted and he slipped, falling back into the water with a resounding wave that splashed over the sides. Wade rushed forward to help, before backing off just as quickly. He was not going to help the man whose home he had trespassed on. He was going to leave. And judging by the loud string of gurgled obscenities from the tub, Wade guessed he'd better leave quickly.

Instead, he froze, caught between wanting to stay and wanting to run for his life. The bond was tingling more now, as if pleased, and Wade refrained from glaring at his chest for getting him into this mess in the first place.

The man shot up, far enough in the tub that the water came up to his thighs. He glared at Wade, mouth opening to likely yell at him. But once their gazes met for the second time, his eyes softened, struck with their own dawning comprehension.

He gasped and took a step back, as if struck, "You?"

Wade wanted to say something a bit more explanatory than that, like, ' _Yeah, it's me,"_ or ' _Hey, how's it going,_ ' but all that came out of his mouth was a very blunt, "You're naked..."

And, as if just realizing it himself, the man glanced down, eyes wide, as a scorching blush traveled down his neck. He cupped his groin with speed unknown to man and angled his body into the water, blabbering ferocious comments that made little sense but Wade knew enough of the tone to know that they were blathering remarks and curses. But he ignored those, trying to meet his blue eyes again if just to verify his hunch.

His gaze landed on the red and blue scales that peppered the man's skin, winking in the faint candlelight. The name whispered past his lips before he could check himself, "Spidey?"

The man paused his embarrassed cursing with a tense. Then he sagged. He turned his shoulders, meeting Wade's eyes, and held his head up with as much pride a naked man could have after being caught bathing. Through the wet strands of his hair, two tiny horns were peeping through.

"Peter Parker, actually." he said, "Now please turn around, Wade, I'd rather not," he gestured vaguely to his naked flesh, "expose myself again."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, they finally met! :3
> 
> Okie dokie, right off the bat, I'm not going to be able to update the remainder of this month. I have this really big competitive event coming up that I need to study for and there's a lot on my plate - I just won't be able to keep up with updates (besides, I gotta get my head in the hame :P )
> 
> I'll still be here so I can reply to comments, I just won't be updating anything. So, this will be the last update for this month. I'll be back soon though! Thank you to everyone who has been supporting me through this new Spideypool book, I love ya all!
> 
> See you next time! 3


	4. A Game of 5 Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have four questions left,"
> 
> Peter glared back. "Two left,"
> 
> "Four!"
> 
> "Two!"
> 
> "FOUR DAMMIT!"
> 
> "Fight me!"

Wade and Peter stared at each other over the table. Two cups of cold milk sat between them, both of which were quickly spoiling in the open air, completely untouched.

Peter wasn't naked anymore. After the whole Spidey-is-actually-Peter thing in the bathing room, Peter made Wade turn around so he could jump out of the water and had quickly disappeared back into the main cavern. After several minutes of staring at the rippling water, and blowing out a few candles- cause why the hell not, wax was getting everywhere anyway - Peter came back to fetch him after having changed into a pair of trousers and a long shirt that practically devoured him. The fabric was identical to the material the Natives donned, only a whole lot cleaner. He beckoned Wade wordlessly down the hall and sat him down at the table with the water pitcher, which he relocated to a carved out shelf.

Wade watched wordlessly as Peter disappeared down another small tunnel, hidden at an angle that made it look as though he merged with the wall, and come back with a container of milk that he poured into a small, circular pan over the brazier. The silence was thick. Peter kept his back to Wade until the milk was warm before pouring it into two cups.

It'd been a while since he set one of them in front of Wade, keeping the other for himself, but neither of them touched the drink since Peter pulled up a chair and joined him at the table. Wade could hardly be bothered with milk when he was in the deep process of figuring out this new entity.

Within Peter's drying hair, he could still pinpoint two horns peeking through the brown sodden strands. Red scales glittered on Peter's right cheek, catching the light of the fire, and when Wade's eyes moved down Peter's throat, he followed the blue scales over his jugular, down his Adam's-apple where they disappeared beneath the shirt's collar. If Wade wasn't going any crazier, he would've thought that some scales had disappeared in the time-frame Peter sat down.

But as he dwelled in observation, Peter, meanwhile, did the exact opposite, by holding his cup in both hands and stared solemnly into the milk. Wade wanted him to look up so they could make eye contact. Eye-contact always meant instant question - it was common awkward-acquaintance courtesy. But Peter's eyes remained fixated in the filming milk, so intensely that Wade was tempted to peer inside to see if there was a crystal ball hiding at the bottom.

Instead, he crossed his arms and tipped back in his chair, searching for any more dragon-like characteristics hiding in Peter's skin. The sleeves of his shirt were drowning his hands, but Wade spotted a claw peaking outside the hem. His ear was a little weird too, one was normal, but the other was oddly shaped - as if someone had taken a knife to it. Only, it looked less mangled than it did 5 minutes ago, and Wade couldn't figure out if his brain was pulling tricks on him again, or if Peter was the one pulling his leg.

But other than that, there was little he could uncover with Peter now clothed. But that did little to deter Wade's curiosity. He switched to seeking out hidden remnants of Spidey personality-wise, but the guy was huddled so far in his chair it was hard to compare him to the taller, confident dragon he'd met back in the clearing.

Wade leaned background on his stool and let himself fall again, slightly knocking the table. Peter's fingers tightened around the cup, and this time Wade knew he was deliberately trying not to make eye contact.

Well,  _fuck that shit_. He leaned back again, and fell, hitting the table harder this time. Peter's hands jolted from the impact and milk splashed up onto those monstrous sleeves. He hissed – honest to the Saints  _hissed_  - and glared at Wade, lifting his milk-soaked arms off the table as if to show Wade the horrid consequences of his actions. But they dropped with a wet plop as Peter glowered, realizing he'd lost their battle of wills.

Eye contact. It was time for those questions.

Wade leaned forward, bracketing himself on the table innocently with folded arms. "So," he said, easy and care-free, as he flicked off a wooden-chip in the table, "Spidey, Peter, whoever the frickitty-frack you really are..."

Peter picked his over-turned cup off the ground and set it gently back on the table, slow and easy as if to buy himself some time. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up and over his hands so the wet spots were clenched inside his hidden fist, and folded his arms in a similar fashion to Wade's, staring him in the eye. "My name is Peter, not Spidey. What do you want, Wade?"

It took all of Wade's self-control not to flip his shit right there. "What do I want?" he demanded, taking a deep, careful breathe. "Oh _, I don't know_ , maybe I want to know what the  _fuck_  is going on! What the hell kind of person can turn into a  _dragon_? That's not a natural thing! I've gone to every. Single. Lecture about dragons, and not ONCE did any of them mention people who can turn  _INTO_  one."

"Of course they didn't," Peter snapped back, and - oh, maybe there was a little bit of fire in this twiggy man - pun intended. "Because no one believes they exist, anymore. Which I'd like to keep that way, so if you don't mind quieting the hell down."

"Oh- _oh_ ," Wade jabbed a finger at him. "I do mind. I  _do_  fucking mind. And, no, I won't shut up, who the hell is going to hear us in here anyway? The rock termites? Your fancy-ass books? Which, let's talk about that for a second. This," Wade gestured erratically at the room. "What is this?"

"My home," Peter deadpanned.

"Don't you give me that sarcastic shit," Wade threatened, "Why did we just spend that last two days in the woods when we could've been in here? Have you seen the bug bites I got? They're everywhere because a bunch of bugs had a fucking festival on my skin. Which, let me tell you, isn't exactly a  _merry_ experience."

Peter's nose scrunched as if he was smelling something rotten. "I wasn't just going to take you back to my  _house_ , Wade. I don't even know you."

"Oh, but you'll sit and take care of me for two days?" Wade refuted hotly.

At that, Peter clamped his mouth shut and stared rigorous holes into the wood. "Technically, it was only a day and a half," he muttered through the corner of his lips.

Wade waved wildly at him to stop. "Hey, I'm too busy feeling upset to take your attitude. Which, is a big thing for me, because  _I_ usually get to have the attitude. In fact, I think I'm entitled to have one right now." Peter's arms tightened across his chest, but he forced his head to tilt up, meeting Wade's gaze again.

"Fine," he said with a clenched jaw, "You have 5 questions. What do you want to know?"

"Five questions?" Wade burst, barely able to keep himself planted in his seat. "You kidnap me and turn into a  _dragon_ , and all  _I_ get is five measly questions?"

"Five. Questions."

Wade was all but ready to argue the unfairness of only 5, but the look in Peter's eye told him that it would only get him so far. As of now, he was an immovable stone, and Wade didn't have the time nor patience to chip away at it. He was feeling frazzled enough as it was, and it was taking every bout of the self-control lessons Sir Rogers had been teaching him not to resort to screaming like an old banshee.

"5 questions my ass, I got a fucking list," he muttered with a glare but huffed back in his seat. There were a lot more than 5 questions, so much so, that it was a chore just to rifle through them to pick the best ones. Like, where this cave came from? What were all these things? What was he doing here and not in the port-settlement? Why was he here in the first place?

But there was ONE that he was definitely hung up on.

Wade leaned forward again, arms crossed on the table in an effort to keep still. Peter looked tense and on edge. It reminded him of an agitated dog, like one move would make him either bolt or bite, maybe both, and there was no way Wade was letting that happen again.

"So, what are you exactly? And before you give me some stupid, half-cooked answer, I'm talking about the whole dragon-human shifteroo shit. Explain that to me."

Peter tugged on his sleeves, blowing out his cheeks as his eyes roamed to find an answer in the rocky ceiling. He mulled over the answer for a minute, before slowly saying, "I'm a draeconus. I am both dragon and human. I was born that way, so I've always been able to do it."

Wade waited for him to elaborate, but after several long seconds, it was obvious Peter wasn't offering anything else. "Wait, that's it? That's all I get?"

Peter shrugged unhelpfully. "There's not much more you  _need_ to know. And technically, those last two count as part of your questions, so you only have two left."

Wade jumped from the table, "Like hell I do!" and this time his cup toppled over and sent milk sprawling over the table-top, where it ran over the edge and pooled on the ground. "Shit!" he growled and spun in a jerky circle for something to clean it with.

"No, it's fine, just leave it -" Peter tried, but Wade ignored him and grabbed a dirty shirt left on the floor nearby. He muttered angrily, rapidly, as he mopped up the milk, and slapped the soaked-shirt back down on the table, right between them. He plopped back in his seat and glared.

"I have four questions left,"

Peter glared back. "Two left,"

"Four!"

"Two!"

"FOUR!"

"TWO!"

"FOUR DAMMIT!"

"Fight me!"

"Oh my g-" Wade refrained from leaping over the table by pinching the bridge of his nose. Only Francis ever got him this irritated. But comparing Peter to Francis was a bit unfair. However stubborn he was, Peter didn't deserve that insult. Still, he was a giant pain in the ass 'cause all Wade wanted was answers and Peter was hell-bent on giving him the exact opposite.

Peter held his decision for a few more seconds, before his clenched fists softened and he sagged back in his chair, fiddling with the wet shirt on the table, "Fine." he conceded. " _Fine!_  We'll compromise. You can have three left."

An argument was already growing on Wade's tongue but he bit it back. Better than two, he supposed. Just a few minutes with him, and Wade could tell Peter was as stubborn as any mule. Maybe even more so than him.  _Maybe_. There would be time to test that later. "Okay, fine you fucker. For my _third_  question, why didn't you just bring us back here when I was 'recovering'?"

"Well," the stubborn wall fell back a tad and Peter shuffled on his butt, suddenly awkwardly, "I wasn't completely lying before. I really don't bring people I don't know here - or, anyone actually...to be honest, I'm surprised you found it."

Wade stemmed the urge to rub his chest where the bond tingled. It was that blasted thing that all but dragged him there in the first place. He shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious himself. "Well, I mean - I didn't _plan_  on coming in here. See, my chest was acting funny and the bond was, well, kinda snapping at me, and it was like, leading me and - and..." he slowly trailed off when a peculiar look grew on Peter's face. Wade fell back in his chair, wishing that he'd sink into, and, subconsciously rubbed the spot where the bond resided. "I - I mean...uh..." he coughed, and beckoned for Peter to keep talking, "continue..."

"Uh...as I was saying, I don't normally bring people here. Besides, you didn't know me as, well," he gestured to his face, "Peter, so it'd be kind of weird for me to bring you into a place full of human stuff."

Well, he supposed that made sense. If Spidey brought him here to begin with, it'd be strange to see a dragon with a cave full of books, cups, and milk. There were the old tales that dragons harbored treasures, but the only treasure Spidey seemed to have was that collection of animal-skin blankets in the corner and a complete volume of Alchemy books - minus book 5 of course. Which, Wade actually still had.

"Oh, that reminds me," he withdrew the book from inside his shirt where he kept it safely tied with the cord around his waist, and held it out to Peter, "I think this belongs to you."

Peter gasped, all wide-eyed and cooky, and all but snatched the book out of his hands. quickly thumbing through it, "Please tell me you didn't lose my page," he flipped to a page stuck with a small scrap of leather and snapped it just again, holding it close to his chest with a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness." After a long second, he must've realized Wade was still there and added, almost sheepishly, "Uh...thanks…I forgot I, uh, brought it with me."

Wade shrugged, "Yeah, I figured you might like it back. I mean, whatever would you do without volume five, amirite?"

Peter chuckled, a little more to himself than Wade, "Yeah, I guess," and got up to return the book to its kin. The smile on his face was nice, and Wade decided that he liked it a lot better than arguing. Peter had a pleasant ambiance about him when Wade wasn't so irritated with his lack of crystalline answers. But, that also brought him back to their former conversation. "So, about my fourth question."

The smile on Peter's face vanished within an instant. "Oh, right. Okay." He went back to the table with his hands clasped, said, "Well, let's finish this up," and gestured for Wade to take his seat.

Wade sat down too, already wishing they could go back to the book-thing. Arguing, as good as he was at it, just didn't sound like fun right now. Bantering, now that sounded like fun, and Peter seemed like a good bantering-partner when he didn't look two-second away from shredding Wade. Which, huh, not as horrifying was a sane person would think. But that'd have to wait for later, if at all.

"Okay, my fourth question is..." he let it drag off, not to be ominous, but because he wasn't sure if he even wanted to know this last one.

After several long seconds, Peter tapped his fingers impatiently, "Well, what is it"

Wade swallowed and began playing with the wet shirt; fiddling with it, squeezing milk back onto the table and drawing meaningless designs into the wood, eyes downcast. "Why did...why did you leave me in the clearing? Back when we bonded," he sounded smaller than he intended.

It was Peter's turn to be silent. His fingers were back to playing with the hem of his sleeves, before finding a quick interest in the grooves of the table. His stool squeaked as his shifted, and he coughed several times into his fist before any words actually came out, "Well..." his voice was small and pitched, and he coughed again to get rid of it. "Well, I - uh...I guess I just...um, it just freaked me out, I guess. I mean, I didn't expect anything like that to happen, and it was just so… _sudden_. Like, I knew the whole 'bonding' thing with you humans was happening, that's why I was down by the cliffs. I didn't want to get involved so I tried to stay as far away as I could, but then you just came crashing down and - and that's not even pertaining to the question anymore, is it?" Peter pulled the sleeves over his hands and up to his elbows, as if ready to dig into something dirty, before drumming his fingers on the table and pulling them back down. "Okay, I just don't know. It was instinct, I guess. I just...I just had to go. Clear my head. Get my thoughts back in order."

"Okay," Wade nodded slowly, he could understand that. It was kind of a lot to take in. "But, did it ever, I don't know, occur to you that I was just as freaked out? I didn't expect to bond with a random dragon in the forest either, ya know."

At least Peter had the decency to look guilty. "You're right," he said, looking down. "It wasn't just me. I guess it kind of...came on suddenly and I panicked." It looked like the truth, but when Peter rushed to his feet and scooped up their empty cups, deliberately avoiding eye contact, Wade had a feeling there was more to it than that.

"Okay, you have one more question," Peter said as he washed the cups in a small basin.

Wade knit his fingers together and lay his head on his hands. He pursed his lips, staring at the scales on Peter's neck. Yep, there were definitely less than before. More questions piled on his tongue, but he stubbornly swallowed them back. Peter peaked over his shoulder to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Well?"

Wade hummed, tilted his head, and squinted, "Ya know what? I don't think I'm gonna use my last question yet."

Peter halted his needlessly rough scrubbing of the cups. "W-what?" he whirled around. "You can't do that."

"Of course I can," Wade retorted with a snort, "You never said I couldn't."

"That - that is - no. You have to use them all  _now_."

Wade got up and leisurely strolled across the room, clasping his hands behind his head. "Nuh-uh," he sang, and behind him, the cups dropped in the basin and he heard the patter of feet storming up to his back.

 _Ooh, look_ , he mused,  _I riled the beast_. But he was wholly surprised, however, when a strong hand gripped his arm and spun him around with strength he wasn't expecting. He barely had time to catch himself on the table, when Peter had grabbed a fist-full of his shirt and pulled him down to eye-level.

"Look," he growled. "I'm sorry about leaving you in that clearing. It was a shitty move. But I'm not going to have this hanging over my head. Besides, what gives you the right to just waltz right in here and demand all of this? We barely even know each other, at all, bonded or not, and I won't compile everything there is about me and just give it to you."

"Okay, one _, damn_  you are strong. Like, what do you eat as a dragon, cause shit, I need some of that. And two," Wade grabbed Peter's wrist and twisted, relinquishing the hold on his shirt, spun Peter around and pinned him against the table. "I have a few moves myself, so don't think I won't fight back. And three,  _why not_? At least give me a list so I can piece together something to go off of. You're leaving me in the dark here. You're hurting me Spidey...again... "

"Whoa - hey, that was not on me," Peter snapped, "You're the one who fell down the hill." He shifted his foot and rammed his heel into Wade's leg, the blow giving him enough leverage to escape Wade's hold.

"OW!" Wade clutched his - likely bruised - calve, and hopped one-legged on the ground. "What the actual fuck! Come on, we were playing you little shit!"

Peter looked only a little sorry. "Whoops," he said impassively, lifting his chin, "Guess I play a little too rough."

That earned him a chuckle. "Well, lucky for you I heal fast."

Peter nodded, this time in thought. He leaned back against the table, watching as Wade rubbed the sore muscle with a pout. "I've been meaning to ask you about that," he said. "How do you heal so fast anyway? That fall should've killed you."

"Don't act so disappointed," Wade chuckled, but before Peter could rebuke he said, "Now how is it fair that you don't have to answer questions, but I do? Sorry Spidey-Petey, but I just can't reveal stuff about myself, you know, for  _reasons."_

"Fair enough," Peter huffed, but Wade could tell he was disappointed not to know. Which he didn't even feel sorry for. Maybe that'd teach him for being so hard to work with.

The bruising on his leg was already gone and all aches had disappeared. Wade balanced his weight on the leg, just to make sure, and when he noticed Peter watching, he spread his arms out in a grandiose sweep and exclaimed, "Tada!"

There it was, a smile. Small and hidden when Peter looked away, but it was there. Wade grinned. He liked small-talk more than the arguments, it was a lot nicer to experience, and it probably wouldn't end up with him getting kicked again. Which, damn, Petey had some strength in those limbs. He wasn't exactly  _twiggy_ , as that shirt would lead him to believe, there was definitely muscle on his frame, but not enough to slam Wade into the table like that. Where the hell did it come from? Bruce was going to be over the moon when Wade told him about this.

Which, huh, now that his mind had broached the topic, what happened with the expedition party. Did it all go according to plan? Maybe dragon/people like Peter were a new thing this year. He hoped Steve wasn't too worried. Francis was probably having the time of his life though, and would go back to the mainland telling the woeful tale of Sir Wilson the Fuckup who had plummeted to his death.

Wait...hold on a flippin-flappin second...if Wade was here...then who was taking care of Blind Al? Oh shit, if Francis got anywhere near her, he was going to get a pair of swords shoved up his ass. Nobody got to mess with Blind Al, nobody. And his swords...oh someone was going to get really fucked up if they touched his swords. Oh, someone was gonna find out how it was to die in the worst possible ways imagined, and not even Steve the Honorable could save them.

As Wade went through a mental list of killing methods, his bloody fantasy was interrupted by a disgruntled, "I'm sorry for kicking you in the leg," and every weapon and splatter of imagined blood disappeared with a loud, mental pop as Wade realized Peter was still standing in front of him.

Wade kicked his gory thoughts into a corner and smiled, "D'aww, it's okay Spidey. I forgive you...and I'll forgive you about the hill thing too."

"My name is Peter, and, no, that wasn't my fault. You were the one who wasn't watching where you were going."

"Because someone didn't tell me about it," Wade said and bopped Peter's nose, which in turn, scrunched as if Wade had just flicked him with water. A bubbly laugh floated through Wade's chest, but he held it back. Now that the real serious stuff was over, for him anyway, his instinctually goofy-nature was ready to take back the ropes. Or maybe he was just tired. It'd been a long day, emotional day.

Peter's mouth opened to argue before he must've decided better of it, and clicked it shut again. With a huff and an eye-roll, he went back to the basin and dried the cups with his shirt. Meanwhile, Wade stretched his legs and strolled among the trinkets and tinctures sprawled enthusiastically around the tables. On one table, a row of bottled herbs and liquids were organized in long, neat lines, each labeled with its designated name. Wade picked one up, rustling the brittle leaves inside, when he noticed the pair of thick glasses sitting by an opened book.

"Oh," he squealed, picking them up gently to examine them through the firelight, "Spidey are these yours?"

Peter whirled around, eyed widening horrifically when he saw what Wade was holding, and stabbed a threatening finger in his direction, "Put those down! I need those, Wade. I mean it!"

Wade ignored him and positioned the sturdy frames on his nose, peering through the frames with a look of acumen. "What? Embarrassed that the big, strong dragon has glasses," he bent down, fingers pinching the frames so they didn't slide down his face, and squinted at the labeled bottles. "Oh yes, I can feel the intellect stirring within. Hey Petey, you wanna have a rousing discussion about the soil type of mushrooms?"

Peter snatched the glasses off Wade's nose, "No," he said, bringing the glasses with him to the safety of his animal-skin bed. "I want to go to sleep. Today has been a really..." he thought for a second, "weird day, and I'm ready for it to be done."

"Weird the dragon-human says," Wade snorted, "Now that I can agree on." He yawned and stretched, pulling his arms high over his head. "Yep, I think I'm ready to be done too," How long has he been in this cave? Maybe there was enough sunlight left to find shelter. He could always just camp out under the stars, like the good ol' days, but bugs seemed to think of his skin as a nice texture to party on so that didn't sound particularly appealing.

He strode over to the exiting tunnel, in a heated mental debate on whether to climb a tree and risk spiders or stay on the ground where the night crawlers prowled, when the bond snapped at him in reproach.

"Whoa, hey!" Wade warned, looking down at its vicinity. "Stop it.  _Stop it_. We're not doing this again,"

Footsteps behind him, "Wade, where are you going?"

Wade whirled back around, spreading his arms out in a what-does-it-look-like gesture. "Heading out for the night," he said. "We did just decide on sleep, right? I didn't make that up?"

Peter shuffled in his bare foot and scratched his neck awkwardly, or at least tried to. It must've been pretty hard with the bundle of blankets in his arms. "Well, you - you don't have to be out there..." he muttered, "I mean. There are no bugs in here, and I know you said something about bites, so..."

Wade blinked. "Wait...so..." The blanket hit his face.

"So, you can sleep in here," Peter said over his shoulder as he began the nonchalant work of tidying up his tables. Once again, Wade was acutely aware of his habit of avoiding eye-contact.

"It's the least I can do anyway," Peter continued, "After making you sleep outside last night."

Wade ran his hand over the soft material of the blanket. "Oh," he swallowed. "Uh…thanks Spidey -" his eyes snapped back up, brows furrowing. "Okay, hold a sec, why the hell was I -" he stopped himself. Last question, he couldn't waste it. "I woke up naked last night," he stated, bluntly, "Kind of weird..." 

Peter sputtered, nearly dropping the vials in hand, and turned a luminous shade of red. "I - I was only getting the splinters out! Excuse me for thinking about your well-being! I'll be sure to let them heal over next time!" He snatched more vials in his hand and stomped across the room.

Wade laughed, holding his palms out, "Easy, I wasn't getting mad. Just wondering. Of anything, it was kind of...sweet. Weird,  _really_ weird, but sweet. Thanks, Spidey."

"Peter," Peter sighed, but the red in his cheeks had gone down.

"Same thing."

Peter muttered something like, "No, a very big difference actually," but Wade was too busy settling on the ground to really pay attention. The fur was so soft and silky on his skin and  _absolutely heavenly._  Most of the ground was already covered in rugs, so it was nice to know he didn't need to worry about any hard rocks or creepy bugs.

For a while, Wade watched Peter tidy up the room, trying to imagine what it would be like to see him transform into a dragon. It would be fucking awesome, he was sure, but also wondered if it hurt. Or if it tickled. Or if it was just something as normal as flexing an arm. So many questions, but only one left to ask. Oh, the cruelty.

The minutes stacked on Wade's eyelids and they began to fall. He was fast asleep before he even realized why he couldn't see Peter anymore.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: There were glasses in medieval times! They're big, thick, clunky looking things, but I like to imagine Peter in them anyway :3 I think he would make them look cute.
> 
> I had a bit of time to spare and thought I'd update! So, whoo! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SeasonsofLauren!!! I'm very excited to start this fic!!


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